


See Me Through My Eyes and I'll Tell You What I See

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Series: Merlin Episodes: AUs, Missing Scenes, and Inspired By [17]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: After Camlann Merlin Big Bang, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Child put in a dangerous situation, De-Aged Merlin, Disability, Episode: s04e09 Lancelot du Lac, Fix-it fic, Grief, Insecure Arthur, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Romance, Vision loss (temporary)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is finally ready to confront Merlin and confess his feelings. Fate, however, has other plans and turns Merlin into an infant, teaching Arthur and Merlin that there is more to life than royalty or servitude, and that there is almost always a light to counter the dark if one is only brave enough to ask for it. Or... how things <i>could</i> have happened after 4X09: Lancelot du Lac.</p><p>
 <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7768750?view_full_work=true"> <img/></a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my two amazing beta readers: Wayward Halos and Merlinsdeheune, both of whom have been invaluable with their suggestions. This story would be far less than it is without them. 
> 
> I also want to give a big thank you to the wonderful Merlinsdeheune, who not only beta read this fic, but also agreed to do the art for it! It has been such a great experience for me and I am so very happy with the art for this story.
> 
> And a giant hug for the mods--so much wonderful fic and art have been added to our wonderful fandom through ACBB, which wouldn't be possible without our fearless leaders.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : The Adventures of Merlin and all characters associated with the BBC series are the property of many people, including BBC and Shine, but, sadly, I am not among them.  
> 

Remnants of a stormy night lingered—water rivulets from the steady rainfall rolled down the aged masonry before making small splashes as they fell into larger puddles from the earlier torrential rains—and the tiny sliver of moonlight that evaded the ominous, billowing clouds silhouetted the emotionally and physically exhausted king of Camelot as he studied his sleepy surroundings, which included Merlin and his horse.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7768750?view_full_work=true)

They had just entered the gate on the other end of the courtyard and looked as if they’d had a bath.

 _That_ wasn’t what held Arthur’s attention, however.

What did was the fact that _every single thing_ about Merlin seemed off.

Normally, Merlin appeared to be one of the most cheerful people Arthur had ever seen, a fact that irked him to no end. That someone could be so infuriatingly upbeat all the time (other than when he was afraid of something going boo in the night, or when his bottom was sore after riding on his horse all day, or when someone he cared about was hurt or in danger) just wasn’t at all fair.

But to see Merlin hunched over his horse, appearing no less exhausted than Arthur felt, wasn’t any fairer.

Witnessing Merlin in such a state reminded Arthur of the day the dragonlord, Balinor, had met an untimely death and Arthur had watched his manservant suffer through an emotional moment.

Thankfully, Merlin didn’t appear to be doing such now, but Arthur conceded the fact that if there were ever an appropriate time for a man to be distraught, this would have been that time for Merlin.

Such a thought sent a wave of sadness crashing over Arthur and he shook his head, not wanting to think about the previous day when he’d banished Guinevere for betraying him with Lancelot, who had gone and killed himself, presumably because he couldn’t live with what he had done.

Unfortunately, not wishing to think about what had happened didn't make Arthur's memories go away, but a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning that lit up the sky in spectacular fashion did manage to redirect his maudlin thoughts as Camelot’s other points of interest came into view. 

The citadel was slowly waking up from its slumber. Arthur stifled a yawn.

Nothing looked any different than it had the morning before—a smattering of villagers tarried to and fro with purpose, the steadfast sentries kept watch over Camelot and its surroundings with owlish eyes, the courtiers diligently entered and exited the cavernous castle with their wares in tow, and several of his knights were preparing to leave for pre-dawn patrol, their long, flowing capes flying behind them, whipping against the early morning gales—but to Arthur, everything had changed and would never be as it was again.

Life would go on, but Guinevere was gone, never to return, and her hasty departure was a loss that would bring Arthur to his knees if he allowed it.

Thus far he had forbidden himself the luxury. There would perhaps be time for that later, but for now he had Morgana to worry about.

His once kind-hearted, generous, lovable, selfless half-sister-turned-witch had been lying low recently, but Arthur had an uneasy feeling that once she discovered Guinevere’s departure, she would strike. And why wouldn’t she?

Morgana knew Arthur better than almost anyone; she understood him and would grasp that, without the woman he’d planned to marry by his side, her brother would unravel.

“I see Merlin has returned,” said a sotto voice from the opposite end of the balcony.

Arthur was startled out of his reverie; he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. He turned to see Leon, large map in hand and the fire on the balcony wall behind him his only light source, glancing to where Merlin’s horse was clip-clopping down the cobblestones as it headed for the stables.

Arthur settled his hands atop the weathered stone and closed his eyes for a brief second before nodding as he watched Merlin. “Yes,” he whispered, feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

If Morgana knew Arthur better than _almost_ anyone else, it was Merlin, whose face was almost wholly in shadow as he slowed the horse and patted its mane, who was the only person that truly knew the king of Camelot.

An infinitesimal smile crept across Arthur’s face as he watched Merlin interact with his horse, and it was as if someone had suddenly lifted his heavy burden. Every worry would no doubt return within the next second, but Arthur wished for a respite, no matter how brief, from the worries of the kingdom.

As expected, the troublesome thoughts returned, reminding Arthur why Merlin had been gone the previous night.

Lancelot. 

Merlin had given the former knight of Camelot a proper burial. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time, but Arthur wondered if he had been too generous in _asking_ Merlin to do such. Perhaps Lancelot hadn’t deserved any type of burial after what he and Guinevere had done.

But when Arthur recalled just why he’d made the decision, he couldn’t be sorry for it.

It had been for Merlin.

Lancelot had once been Merlin’s closest confidante, perhaps even his lover. The two had been inseparable. Thick as thieves, some might say.

Their relationship had perplexed Arthur and kept him up at night. It had also been that which forced him to examine his reasons for caring what his servant did when he wasn’t serving him.

And as if losing Lancelot hadn’t been enough to be going on with, Guinevere had been one of Merlin’s first friends and it was obvious to all that the two got on well and had a close relationship. At one point in time Arthur even thought that they might have been more than friends.

Arthur ran a shaking hand over his face as he realised Leon was studying him, his expression one of pity. Arthur bristled; he didn’t much appreciate being observed in his moments of private reflection, but Leon was, apart from Merlin, the only other person Arthur trusted completely.

“Have I made a grievous mistake? Have I damned myself to an eternity of boredom with someone from a neighboring kingdom?” Arthur asked Leon, feeling a foreboding chill settling over him.

“Sire?” a perplexed Leon asked as he deftly rolled up the parchment he’d been studying and ensconced it safely within his armour. 

“Don’t mind me, Leon,” Arthur replied with a self-deprecating frown and a hearty sigh. He should have learnt long ago not to speak when his mind was overburdened with grief and weariness. “Report back as soon as you and the others return. I want to know if Morgana is on the move.”

“Yes, Sire,” replied Leon before he cleared his throat and opened the door to go inside, but instead of leaving, the knight stopped mid-stride, and after a few seconds turned and once again faced Arthur. “An eternity of boredom is a choice,” he said, his eyes darting in the direction of the stables where Merlin was dismounting his horse, but Leon was gone before Arthur could form a coherent response.

 _A choice_.

As Merlin watched Tyr take his horse, he wondered if Arthur was cross with him. The stable boy had told him that the king was staring at him from the balcony with a strange expression on his face.

Merlin had turned to see for himself but had quickly returned his attention to Tyr, a frustrated frown on his face as his thoughts continued to swirl around Arthur and the events of the past day and week.

He had done as Arthur ordered him to do—given Lancelot a _proper burial_ (Merlin wasn’t sure what type of burial Arthur had been talking about, but Merlin had done the one thing he knew was befitting the Lancelot he had known).

To be sure, Merlin had been surprised to be asked to do such a thing—he’d thought Arthur would have wanted to throw the former knight into the lake and be done with him—but burying Lancelot had afforded Merlin the opportunity to say his goodbyes in private, and as goodbyes went, it had been his second most difficult to date and he fervently hoped to never have to face worse.

Saying farewell to Lancelot on the same day he had watched Gwen leave after being banished had emotionally drained him, and he didn’t think his heart could take more.

But at least he still had Arthur.

Tyr spoke, interrupting Merlin’s maudlin, meandering thoughts.

Merlin knew Tyr was asking a question that needed a response, but it seemed as though the words were being filtered through the opposite end of the citadel.

Merlin shook his head and took a few deep breaths; he needed to pull himself together before he went to see Arthur. He forced himself to focus on Tyr, which wasn’t easy to do when his eyes were tired and his mind was occupied.

“S-sorry, Tyr, could you repeat that?” Merlin asked, knowing he must look a sight. To be sure, he didn’t feel much better.

Tyr looked at him oddly and Merlin had the urge to run in the opposite direction, perhaps until he reached Ealdor, where his mother’s open arms would welcome and comfort him. He needed that warmth and reassurance like he needed air, but he knew now wasn’t the time for running away.

“Will the king require his horse this morning?” Tyr asked.

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but he turned when Gwaine, who was possibly the only person who might understand what the losses of Lancelot and Gwen were doing to him, entered the stables. Gwaine gave Merlin a commiserating look and motioned his head towards the door. Merlin gave him a curt nod, but shuffling behind him reminded him that Tyr was waiting for a response.

A deep breath later, Merlin turned back to the stable boy and shook his head. “I don’t think so, Tyr. The king will be training all morning, though you know how he is and how things can change. Best be prepared, yeah?” Merlin let out a nervous laugh, knowing that he could easily let out a sob if he allowed one to surface. “See you this afternoon,” he said as he turned and walked towards Gwaine.

“Arthur’s in one of his moods. Just thought I’d warn you,” Gwaine said with an apologetic glance as he slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him closer. He ruffled Merlin’s rain-soaked hair. “He should have asked Leon or me to send Lancelot away. He knew better than to ask you. I know he’s upset over Gwen, but he knows that you and—”

Merlin wearily put up a hand and shook his head as he looked into Gwaine’s eyes, imploring him to understand. “Don’t. It’s fine. I wanted to- I, erm, needed to be the one to do it,” he said, wishing for Gwaine to leave it, but he did appreciate that there was someone who stood up for him to Arthur. “Arthur asked me to do it because he knew it would be important to me, Gwaine.”

“Hm, a true heroine if ever I knew one. That’s your Arthur,” Gwaine deadpanned.

Merlin glared. “Gwaine.”

“I’m just saying that he needs to be more sensitive, Merlin. He really has no idea, does he?” Gwaine said as he let out a derisive laugh. “I think Arthur needs some proper training up on just what he has in you,” and he punctuated said statement with a smug smirk. “I should enlighten him.”

Merlin glared again. “Don’t you dare,” he said, knowing exactly what Gwaine would say to Arthur.

“Yeah, fine, but if the princess hurts you any more than he already has, I don’t care how upset he is about Gwen. He’ll have to answer to me,” Gwaine said with a wink as he withdrew his arm and walked away.

Arthur stood beside the table laden with untouched fruits, vegetables, and a flagon of mead. He knew he would have to choose his words carefully. Agravaine stood before him, looking as if he were waiting for his nephew to admit he’d nicked a cookie from the cookie jar.

If only it were that simple.

“Uncle, I appreciate what you have done for me and for Camelot. You have been a reassuring presence and I could not have made it through these past months without your guidance, but I will not stand here and listen to your accusations. Leon and I were discussing plans for today and mapping out the patrols when you saw me earlier,” Arthur said, memories of earlier days resurfacing—ones where his father berated him for things he had not done.

The young prince hadn’t appreciated it when his father got the wrong end of the stick, and the now _king_ certainly didn’t appreciate his uncle doing the same.

“That’s all very well and good, Arthur, but I couldn’t care less what you and Leon were discussing. _He_ is not the one I am concerned about. What has me worried is your reaction when you saw Mer—”

“Yes, you saw me looking at Merlin,” Arthur cut in, exasperated and very nearly at the end of his patience. How much was he supposed to be able to withstand?

He’d banished Guinevere and he’d seen Lancelot taken away from Camelot for a second and final time, but as traumatic as those two things had been, Arthur had tried valiantly to block the losses. He had somehow managed to not think about them obsessively, but _this_ was too much.

He wasn’t sure he could take more.

“Is that a crime?” Arthur asked flippantly, attempting with all that he had within him to not lose his temper.

“Do not ta—” Agravaine began to say.

Arthur was having none of it. He interrupted his uncle. “He is my servant and I sent him on an important errand yesterday. When I saw him riding through the gate I was curious how it went. Nothing more, nothing less,” said Arthur, feeling like a chastised child. “Have you forgotten that only yesterday I banished Guinevere? My fiancé?” Arthur asked, his chest heaving, his hands shaking as he stared at his uncle. Why should he have to justify himself?

“No, Nephew, I have not forgotten, but I do have eyes, Arthur,” replied Agravaine calmly, his face morphing into that pre-laugh-that-was-anything-but-jovial look. “Merlin—”

“Leave Merlin out of this,” Arthur said warningly, unwilling to allow Agravaine to speak ill of his servant, but he understood that there was little hope of his uncle acquiescing to his wishes.

Unable to look into his uncle’s eyes any longer, Arthur sighed and walked to the window, needing to gather his thoughts.

He opened the window and settled his elbows on the sill as his eyes scanned the expansive sky that was slowly revealing the majestic views that the dark of night had hidden. The sun was doing its best to break through the thick clouds as it began its ascent, and it reminded Arthur of all those mornings he had awakened to Merlin standing by the window, extolling the virtues of the sun and what it did for the soul.

Arthur wasn’t so sure about the sun, but he knew without a doubt that _Merlin_ was good for his soul.

Such a thought brought forth a warmth that suffused Arthur’s body and took away the chill that had settled over him, but with it came immense sadness. His duty weighed heavily upon him; he knew he needed an heir, but he also needed Merlin. 

His resolve to appease his uncle and the memory of his father was foundering more with each passing second.

Neither he nor Merlin had ever said anything about their odd relationship, but Arthur knew there was something there between them—the innocent touches that were anything but, the looks, the knowing smiles.

Arthur grinned, if only briefly.

Of course all those times could have just been Merlin being his usual overly-friendly self; he could, after all, most assuredly charm a statue of a dog, Arthur mused, chuckling at the ridiculous thought—but, no, Arthur knew Merlin and knew how he turned on his charm. This thing between them was not that.

His thoughts were interrupted when Agravaine coughed.

“Arthur, I know you and I know how you think. You were willing to marry Guinevere, so why wouldn’t I think you would be willing to do something equally as foolish? This is madness. Do you wish to alienate your subjects further?” Agravaine said in that way of his that he no doubt thought exuded calm and authority. “Guinevere was never going to be accepted as your wife, so why do you think your people would accept Merlin? He is your serving boy, Arthur. A _serving boy_. Have you taken leave of your senses?”

Arthur closed his eyes and took a few more deep breaths before reopening them. He needed to remain calm, or at least as calm as possible. “Who said anything about asking anyone to accept Merlin, Uncle? I certainly haven’t,” Arthur replied defensively as he continued to look out at his kingdom.

“You can ignore my questions all you want, Arthur, but it won’t change the facts. Oh, come now. How could I not notice how you smiled when Merlin came through the gate? I have been around a time or two. I am not blind to the fancies of others, and do not think for one moment that I’ve been oblivious to where your eyes roam whenever Merlin is near. Your secret is out, Arthur. You most assuredly did not wish for it to ever reach my ears and eyes, but I am grateful that I decided to come speak to you this morning. You are putting the kingdom in mortal peril. You are being reckless.”

Arthur wanted so very badly to tell Agravaine to quit being so bloody dramatic, but he instead sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, and then spoke as calmly as he could. “As I said before, Uncle, there is nothing I have or will do that will put Camelot in peril. If you’ll please take your leave now, I do not want to have this conversation today.” To be sure, Arthur never wished to have such a conversation, but it was inevitable.

“You mightn’t wish to have this conversation, Arthur, but I do, and like it or not, we will have it now. The timing isn’t the best, but better to get this nonsense out in the open and rid you of your idealistic boyish daydreaming. There was a time for that when you were younger, but you left those days long ago, Arthur. It is time to live in the real world and do what your people expect of you.”

“And how would you know what my people expect of me?” Arthur said as he turned around and glared at Agravaine. “You have been here less than a year. I know my people far better than you ever will. And while we’re talking about what they want, I think they would want for me to be happy. I know that is a novel idea, one that you have never entertained, but I have and I refuse to go through life being unhappy,” Arthur said, breathing heavily, knowing that he had possibly crossed some huge invisible line that he could never uncross.

“And will you deny that Merlin is the one who makes you happy?” Agravaine asked, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Arthur looked up at the ceiling, around his chambers, and at the ground. He should probably lie; that would be the easiest route to take, but he would deny the truth no longer.

He’d lost Guinevere.

He would be damned if he lost Merlin.

“No, Uncle, I will not deny that Merlin makes me happy,” Arthur said defiantly, his voice stoic as he looked up and stared into his uncle’s eyes.

“You will not rule Camelot with a man by your side, Arthur. I will not allow it,” Agravaine said as he hastily made his way to the door without giving Arthur a chance to respond. “I have other obligations I must attend to forthwith, but when you realise the folly of your unseemly desires, find me.” He slammed the door, a shaken Arthur in his wake.

Arthur walked across the room to his chair, trembling. Closing his eyes, he sat and allowed the familiar feel of the animal skin to soothe his frayed nerves and tense body. That talk had gone about as well as he’d expected and now all he wished to do was crawl under his covers and sleep forever. He’d royally bolloxed everything up, hadn’t he?

He had just given his uncle ammunition to remove him from the throne and he wasn’t fool enough to believe that Agravaine De Bois wouldn’t. He’d said as much, hadn’t he?

Sighing, Arthur stood up and walked to the door. He found a servant passing by and regretfully asked them to tell Merlin his services were not required until afternoon patrols.

He wanted more than anything to see Merlin immediately—it was time for Arthur to give voice to his feelings for Merlin so they could fight his uncle together—but for that to happen Arthur knew he needed to be sharp, and near exhaustion at the moment, he was anything but. Thus, sleep was his first order of business.

It wasn’t as if Merlin were going anywhere.

Merlin had just been welcomed back by Gaius and hadn’t yet set foot in his room when one of the new servants he remembered meeting the previous morning came into the physician’s chambers and told Gaius the king would not require Merlin’s services for the next several hours.

That was odd, Merlin mused. Arthur _always_ needed him in the mornings.

Arthur wasn’t at all a morning person and it was down to Merlin to have him up and dressed for whatever was on his schedule for the day.

There was something not right about the situation and Merlin needed to get to the bottom of it, but the thing that bothered him almost as much as Arthur not needing him was the fact that the servant hadn’t asked for _him_.

It wasn’t the _court physician_ whom the message had been for. It had been for _Arthur’s servant_.

Merlin sighed. Such was his life. Another reminder that he was a lowly servant and his feelings didn’t much matter… to anyone.

It was just that he had thought Arthur would want to see him straight away to find out how sending Lancelot away had gone. 

Deep down, Merlin thought there must be a good reason for Arthur not asking to see him immediately upon his return. Something important that required the king’s attention must have come up. Merlin could understand that. He didn’t have to like it, however, and he knew he’d no doubt brood over such until he next saw Arthur.

Upon opening the door to his chambers, Merlin looked longingly at his bed and thought how wonderful it would be to fall into it, close his eyes, and let slumber claim him, but after a glance back at Gaius, who was busy working on something or another at his work table, Merlin knew sleep would have to wait.

He threw the bedroll inside his room and watched it fall onto a pile of dirty clothes before turning around and walking over to the work table.

“Need any help?” Merlin asked, stifling a yawn. He thought that Gaius looked unwell and nearly told him he had no business being out of bed, but he wisely held his tongue; he knew that sickness in Camelot didn’t preclude anyone from carrying on unless they were near death. Merlin himself had worked many a day when he was ill and had no energy. It was just the done thing.

“If you are not too tired,” Gaius replied wearily, giving Merlin a skeptical look, “I could use another pair of hands.” He used his arm to wipe off his forehead before handing Merlin a small parchment. “A tincture for Sir Brennis’s wife. Everything you need should be on the table behind you.”

Merlin made his way to the table and began retrieving the ingredients the parchment indicated he needed.

Two lacewings. Three pinches of yarrow. Three hairs from a decomposing boar. Merlin scrunched up his nose. A decomposing boar? Disgusting!

He looked to see what the next ingredient was, but couldn’t make out what was written. He brought the parchment closer and sighed as he saw _one crushed beetle_. He didn’t miss Gaius’s curious look. Merlin glanced over at him and shrugged his shoulders before retrieving the final few ingredients he needed.

If he was lucky, Gaius wouldn’t say anything.

“Merlin,” Gaius asked worriedly, “are your eyes bothering you?”

So much for luck, Merlin thought as he opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. He carefully set down the knife he was about to use to crush the beetle and gave Gaius a guilty nod as he prepared himself for the _fatherly_ talk he was most assuredly about to receive.

“You need rest," was all Gaius said softly before he returned his attention to his work.

Unable to sleep, and too anxious to work on the speech he and Merlin had begun composing the previous day, Arthur wandered the corridors, no destination in mind. 

He ended up below the castle in the cave where the great dragon had been held for over twenty years.

When an eleven year old Arthur had accidentally stumbled upon it whilst playing soldiers with Leon, his father forbade him and his friends from ever going to see the dragon again. The king had told them that the dragon was dangerous and could kill a person just by looking at them.

Arthur had scoffed at that; he and Leon had talked to the dragon and lived to tell the tale, hadn’t they?

The dragon had said nothing of interest at that initial meeting—something about kids who had nothing better to do than bother captive dragons, but Arthur had been intrigued, and had known that he’d return when he was alone.

It had been several months before he went back, and that meeting had been long ago, but Arthur still remembered each word the dragon had uttered and how he had felt. None of it had made sense then, and much of it still didn’t, but Arthur knew one thing for certain: Most of what the great dragon had said that day all those years ago had been about Merlin, and none of it had been good.

His nerves on edge at the memory of those words and what they could mean, Arthur turned to leave and found Percival walking towards him, which wasn’t a good sign for two reasons. First was that rarely did anyone come down to this part of the citadel, so someone had to have seen Arthur (not that it mattered—he could go wherever he wanted, but he just wished his every move wasn’t monitored). And the second reason was the fact that Percival had left for mid-morning patrol not long before Arthur had left his chambers. The knights weren’t due back until mid-afternoon.

Arthur set his shoulders. “What else could possibly go wrong?” he whispered, exasperated with everything. He cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t be back unless there was news, Percival; what is it now?” Arthur asked reluctantly as he joined the knight and ascended the stairs. “Elyan told me there was a skirmish on the outskirts of Fort Stowell earlier but that it was only a group of boys showing off in front of some of the girls. Please tell me they haven’t gone and done anything stupid,” Arthur added hesitantly, remembering how as young lads he and Leon had landed themselves in more than their fair share of trouble by trying to impress the young maidens.

Percival grinned, but shook his head. “No, nothing like that, Sire. As hard as it is to believe, Gwaine got serious and gave them a good talking to, so I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble from them, but we do have a problem,” he said, looking none too happy as he unlocked the door to get to the main part of the citadel.

Arthur threw up his hands and shook his head. “Of course we do,” spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself, but he really couldn’t be sorry for it. “Erm, continue,” Arthur said as he motioned with his hands for his knight to get on with it.

“It would seem that someone has been going around asking odd questions in several of the surrounding villages, wanting to know if people were happy with your leadership. There is fear spreading throughout and you know what fear does to people,” Percival finished as he closed the door behind them and locked it.

Yes, Arthur knew what fear could do to people. “I’ll have Agravaine look into it,” he replied, knowing that not only was his uncle a good diplomat that could most likely diffuse whatever had arisen, but also that giving Agravaine a task might be the perfect distraction to keep him from meddling in affairs that didn’t concern him.

Arthur smirked, pleased with himself, and made to dismiss Percival, but something about the way the knight looked wasn’t right. “There’s more.” It wasn’t a question. Arthur crossed his arms and waited for the bad news. He could tell by the way Percival averted his eyes that he really didn’t wish to say. “This day just gets better and better. Well, let’s hear it, Percival.”

“As I was questioning the villagers earlier, I repeatedly heard mention of an older Druid boy with piercing blue eyes that seemed to see through anyone he looked at; they said it was he who was doing the questioning. It could be anyone, but I recall you mentioning the boy Mordred and how his eyes were unforgettable, so I thought it only prudent to alert you to the talk.”

Merlin awoke, unsure how long he had been asleep. As he was still exhausted, it was unlikely he’d slept long, but he could see as well as he normally did, so what little rest he had got had done him some good.

It was a small victory, but Merlin would take it. Who needed sleep anyway? A deep, long yawn was his answer and he yearned for slumber to reclaim him, but that wasn’t going to happen.

He made to sit up and get out of bed to go help Gaius, but when a wave of sadness washed over him Merlin decided the physician would be better off without his help. He closed his eyes and gave in to the memories. 

_“I’m going to ask Guinevere to marry me,”_ Arthur had said, a huge grin dominating his face.

It had been the kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle in that way that had never failed to make Merlin’s heart turn flips and make him wish he was an ordinary person whose sole purpose in life was not to secretly keep Arthur safe by keeping secrets from him. But, then again, had Merlin been an ordinary person he would have never come to Camelot.

Merlin had put on the performance of his life that night. He’d smiled as he admired the ring that Arthur had held out to him like a child holding out their first toy sword for confirmation that it had been forged by the best. He’d also told Arthur not to worry, that Gwen would say yes and that they would be happy.

The mask Merlin wore that night had been finely cultivated after more than five years of secret glances during formal dinners when he had served Arthur and watched him chat up beautiful princesses, esoteric touches when no one else was looking, unspoken wants and thoughts even in the privacy of Arthur’s chambers, and as always, damnable obligation.

All of it because one day Arthur would be expected to marry and produce an heir.

That had nearly come to pass, but Arthur and Gwen never would get that happy ending.

Merlin thought he should probably be happier about that than he was. This was his chance, after all. He’d loved Arthur first. He had been helping him for almost six years. He had devoted himself wholly to the king, and now, perhaps his chance for happiness had arrived.

Even Gwen had commented on that very thing as she and Merlin parted company the day before. She’s said that at long last he and Arthur might have a chance to be happy.

Merlin had looked at her as if he hadn’t a clue what she was going on about and she’d told him to close his mouth and that she wasn’t a fool; that if Arthur allowed such an opportunity to pass him by, he wasn’t the man Gwen had thought him to be. Merlin’s only response had been to give her a weak smile.

After endless minutes of torturing himself with such maddening thoughts, Merlin scrunched his eyes tightly shut and shook his head, trying to rid himself of these images and feelings, and for a brief few seconds he found himself wishing he’d never discovered that he had magic and that he was back in Ealdor, living with his mother, without all the heartache that being in Camelot had brought him.

Of course, had he never discovered he had magic, his life in Ealdor would have been vastly different and extremely challenging, the thought of which made Merlin angry with himself for even thinking that he wanted things to go back to how they’d once been.

Perhaps his life had been simpler and less worrisome back then, but for his mother, life had been anything but.

He blamed his ridiculous thoughts on his bloody inconvenient feelings for Arthur. He, Merlin, was a lowly serving boy; Arthur, the handsome king. No matter how much the two might secretly long for one another (and, really, Merlin didn’t even know that Arthur had any such feelings for him), there could never be anything between the two.

Merlin turned over, buried his head beneath his pillow and finally allowed the tears to fall unbidden. He banged his head against the bed, wanting to beat the memories from his mind. It was too much.

_Arthur felt something sharp piercing his armour. The pain was immense and he could feel the life ebbing away from him as his insides were torn asunder, but all he could think about was not showing that he was in pain—his father had told him that projecting weakness was a disgrace._

_He called out to Merlin to come get him, to make it all better, but no one came. “Merlin,” Arthur called out again, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper as his vision faded in and out. “Please. Please,” but then he lost consciousness as he fell to the ground_.

 

Arthur sat up, his breathing coming in pants, his palms and everything else covered in a sheen of perspiration as he looked around and saw that he was safely in his bed within his chambers.

A nightmare.

Not real.

He let out a shaky sigh of relief and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself before Merlin saw him in such a state. But then Arthur let out a rather hysterical laugh at the thought of worrying about his servant seeing him in such a panic.

Oh, how times had changed.

Before Merlin came along, Arthur had walked all over his servants and had done as he pleased. Oh yes, he’d done his duties, but at that time he really hadn’t had much responsibility. Yes, he had gone out and done what his father asked, both good and bad (and there had been some very bad things), but those things had been ordered by someone else.

His father had been the king and the fate of Camelot had rested on _his_ shoulders. Life for Arthur during those years had, for all intents and purposes, been glorious.

Six years down the line, life wasn’t nearly so simple, and as Arthur ran his hands over his face and through his hair, he groaned and wished he could lie back down, turn over, and tell the world to bugger off. He didn’t feel like being king; he wanted to go back to being a prince who was paraded around, participated in tourneys, and defended Camelot in the name of his father.

Merlin, if he were where he was meant to be, would no doubt force Arthur to get out of bed and to get on with whatever it was that needed doing. He always had, and oddly enough, Arthur had come to expect it.

Arthur really should ask Merlin if he’d somehow bewitched him.

Such a thought brought out a chuckle. As if Merlin could bewitch anything. But, truly, Arthur thought he should ask Merlin just what it was about him that had Arthur so entranced.

Of course that would be easier said than done since Merlin wasn’t where he was meant to be.

Arthur remembered giving Merlin the morning off, but he had expected his servant to show up later in the afternoon.

Obviously, that had been too much to hope for. Arthur shook his head and threw up his hands. What had Merlin done to him that he even cared what his idiot servant did anymore?

If the boy were anyone else, Arthur would have sent him on his way long ago and told him to never look back.

Fifteen minutes later Arthur left his chambers, unsure if he should be pleased or furious with his knights.

He’d not been awake five minutes when he realised he’d slept not only through the afternoon and evening, but also through the night, and late into the morning.

Gwaine and Leon had apparently taken charge of the duties the king usually tended to each evening so that Arthur could get some much needed sleep, and Gwaine had told everyone not to disturb the king, and to let him wake on his own.

Arthur hadn’t been pleased and he still wasn’t sure how anyone had prevented Agravaine from waking him.

When he’d asked, Gwaine had just given him that look that said the conversation was finished. Gwaine had turned to leave, but upon reaching the door he’d turned back and told Arthur that Merlin deserved a few days and nights off after what he’d done for them two days earlier.

Bristling at having been put in his place, by _Gwaine_ of all people, Arthur walked into Gaius’s chambers and found the physician shuffling around, a cup in his hand, looking as if he had no business being on his feet. He looked horrid.

“Gaius?” asked Arthur, concern on his face. “Don’t tell me that my lazy, good for nothing servant is still sleeping when he should be helping you.”

Arthur looked over to the steps that led to Merlin’s room and was tempted to go wake him, but instead he took the empty cup from Gaius, filled it with water from the pitcher, and put it in the old man’s hands again. “Drink.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Gaius said as he looked in the direction of Merlin’s room. “He’s asleep. Poor boy was exhausted. I haven’t seen him looking that bad in a long while.”

Arthur let out a brief laugh as if he didn’t believe what Gaius had said, but he had no doubt that Gaius spoke the truth. If anyone deserved rest, it was Merlin. In fact, Merlin deserved many things he never received.

Arthur walked over to the steps that led to Merlin’s chambers. “I do hope he’s got his beauty sleep,” he said much louder than necessary as he grabbed the handle on the door, but just as he was about to open it he had the strangest sensation come over him. It was fear and sadness wrapped into one, and an image of the great dragon flitted through his mind.

He swallowed and shook his head, hoping that it was just his imagination, but the feeling intensified.

“Sire?”

Arthur looked back at Gaius, but said nothing before he opened the door and entered, dread filling him when he realised Merlin wasn’t in his unmade bed.

“Sire?” Gaius repeated as Arthur made his way to the bed.

“Do you think he’s at the tavern?” Arthur asked, his voice choked with fear unlike anything he had known since the day of his father’s death. He knew full well that Merlin wasn’t at the tavern, but all the other scenarios running rampant through his much too vivid imagination were too ghastly and painful to consider, so he chose the tavern, thinking it might bring a little calm to the situation.

It didn’t.

He turned and looked at Gaius. “I’m sure he’s just being the inconsiderate servant he always is,” joked Arthur, but his eyes betrayed him. Perhaps Merlin had gone to get herbs, or maybe he really was in the tavern, but Arthur had a sinking feeling as his thoughts took him back to the previous day.

Agravaine had been furious about Merlin and had said that he would never allow Merlin and Arthur to be together. What if Agravaine had forced Merlin to leave?

And then there were the words of the great dragon to consider.

Arthur’s stomach fell. What if he never saw Merlin again?

But after a second or two of true panic, Arthur did his best to rid himself of such thoughts. True, Agravaine had been furious, but that hardly meant he had done anything to Merlin. Arthur needed to get his wits about him and stop being so dramatic—that was Merlin’s forte, wasn’t it?

Arthur glanced around the room, hopeful that a clue as to his servant’s whereabouts would jump out at him, but there was nothing other than the piles of clothing scattered about… except—the window was open. That was not right.

Not at all right.

Arthur knew Merlin didn’t sleep with the window open because of his propensity for catching cold.

Another wave of dread washed over Arthur as he walked over to the window and examined it. He looked to see if he could find anything unusual, and that’s when he heard an odd noise coming from the floor.

At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary—he was well aware how Merlin was messy and had no regard for his surroundings, so he was unsurprised to see a conglomeration of anything and everything covering the floor. Upon further inspection, however, he saw movement coming from a particularly large pile of clothing.

Out of habit Arthur went for his sword, but he’d left it in his chambers for some reason that eluded him. Nothing else for it, he carefully approached the pile, wondering if a rat were about to come at him.

He had a memory of eating rat stew.

If only killing a rat and eating rat stew were his biggest problems at the moment.

He bent down and moved a few shirts and a pair of breeches off the pile. Two boots were on their sides.

Arthur sighed, thinking how ridiculous it was that his servant treated his possessions so callously, but the messy room was soon forgotten when he heard a noise that shouldn’t be in Merlin’s room. Or anywhere near, for that matter.

The last time Arthur had heard such a sound was when Sir Edmund brought his newborn son to one of the council meetings.

Arthur took a deep shaky breath as he looked over at the window, hoping the noise had come from outside, but he knew it hadn’t.

He frantically removed the remaining clothing, his heart feeling as if it were beating a league a minute, and there, lying in the middle of a large blanket, was _a baby_ , probably no more than a couple months old, a small tuft of black hair atop a tiny head beset by two rather large ears.

Arthur gasped.

Being the king of Camelot, he had seen many things in his life that had given him pause, but the sight before him surely had to be the most surreal. He swallowed and began shaking.

He closed his eyes, knowing what he’d seen, but he didn’t want to believe it. Reopening his eyes and seeing that there was indeed a baby lying there, Arthur brought a hand to his mouth and thought for a moment he might be ill, but a hand on his shoulder steadied him. “No, it can’t be, Gaius,” Arthur said, his voice breaking.

When he hadn’t heard any response from the physician, Arthur stood and turned around to see a pale Gaius looking at the baby that was cocooned within the blanket and a bed of clothing. Arthur had to put out a hand to steady Gaius, who looked as if he were about to fall over. He was trembling.

As was Arthur. 

He led Gaius to Merlin’s bed and carefully sat him down. He then helped him lift the cup with the water in it up to his mouth. “Drink.”

“Merlin,” said Gaius, and it looked as if he were about to cry.

Arthur knew the feeling. He opened his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what to say. He mouthed _Merlin_ before turning back in the direction of the small cries.

He brought both hands to his mouth as he shook his head.

Merlin was a baby.


	2. Chapter 2

“But he’s a baby,” said Gwaine as he swung a leg over the bench and sat astride it while his eyes warily darted between Arthur and Merlin. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Merlin’s a _baby_ ,” he added in a whisper.

“Well spotted, Gwaine. Your powers of observation astound me,” Arthur replied sarcastically, yet softly so as not to startle Merlin, whose tiny snores reminded him, as if he’d needed such, that something was terribly wrong.

Arthur had no idea what to do.

As obnoxious as Gwaine could be, and as much as he got Arthur’s ire up, he had been the obvious choice to go to first because he and Merlin got on well and were good friends, but Arthur knew he needed to tell someone who could give him answers. But who? Other than Gaius, who else was there?

A year earlier Arthur would have gone to his uncle straight away, but recent events had rather soured Arthur’s thoughts about Agravaine—especially when it came to Merlin.

Unfortunately, Arthur had run into his uncle mere minutes earlier as he was on his way to see Gwaine. That had been a tense exchange to be sure, his uncle drilling him with questions about how such a thing could have happened. Arthur had been terrified that Agravaine would sound the alarm and go on a rampage about magic, which was the last thing little baby Merlin needed to happen, but he hadn't. In fact, he'd been much calmer than Arthur would have thought. It had worried him, but as there was nothing to do for it, Arthur had pushed it from his mind. Until his uncle asked to hold Merlin.

A hasty, emphatic “No,” had been Arthur’s immediate response. He’d made up an excuse that he had somewhere to be, and Agravaine seemed to have accepted that explanation, but Arthur feared that his uncle would not relent and that his eventual objective would be more far-reaching than merely holding Merlin.

Agravaine had made his thoughts about Merlin supremely clear.

“But how did he get from up here,” Gwaine said, interrupting Arthur’s ruminations by lifting his hand up high over his head, “to down here,” and Gwaine’s hand moved lower. He looked questioningly at Arthur for a few seconds, then stood and set down his sword before removing his armour. “I saw him outside early this morning and he looked fine.”

Arthur seriously thought about taking the sword beside Gwaine and hitting the knight upside his head. How was Arthur to know how this had happened? But he resisted, because he himself had wondered the same—how had Merlin gone from his tall, lanky idiot servant to a little baby in less than a day? Morgana? Druids? Saxons?

Camelot had its fair share of enemies, each day bringing a new one it seemed, but which had been the one to penetrate the secure borders of Camelot to inflict harm on one of its servants?

A million questions were running through Arthur’s mind. “Do you know what Merlin was doing outside this morning? Did you talk to him? Why didn’t you tell me you saw him when you talked to me earlier?” Arthur asked, hardly taking a breath in between questions as he looked between Gwaine and the tiny sleeping baby in his arms whose hand was currently wrapped around Arthur’s finger, touching the silver and bronze ring that had been his mother’s.

Arthur looked up and grimaced when he heard Gwaine chuckling.

“Who would have thought that the king of Camelot would be so taken with little baby Merlin?” said Gwaine, giving Arthur a knowing grin.

“Shut up, Gwaine, and answer my questions. It won’t be long before I need to feed him.”

Gwaine’s eyes roamed down to Arthur’s chest. He opened his mouth, but then shut it, the unasked question written all over his face.

Arthur rolled his eyes and thought about making a snide remark, but he chose not to. He instead grinned ever so sweetly, knowing Gwaine would get the message. “Until we can find someone to feed him properly they are making him bottles in the kitchens. Now how about answering my questions, or do I need to repeat them for you?” Arthur asked, quickly losing his patience.

“Yeah, yeah, wouldn’t want to keep Mummy Arthur from his duties, would we?” Gwaine said as he folded his cape and set his armour atop it. “I saw Merlin walking towards the training grounds as I was about to go get my horse. He said he had to get something for your training later. It seemed strange, but I had no reason not to believe him so I left him to it. I didn’t say anything to you earlier because I assumed since he wasn’t with you that he must be sleeping, which he needed, and you know it, Arthur. Other than looking exhausted when I saw him, he appeared just the same as he always does,” Gwaine said as he walked back over to where Arthur stood. “Like a lovelorn idiot, if you must know,” he amended, a smirk firmly in place.

Arthur opened his mouth to give Gwaine a piece of his mind, but one look at Merlin had him rethinking his tactics. He sighed and shook his head. If he weren’t holding a sleeping Merlin in his arms and if Gwaine were anyone else, there was no way Arthur would stand for such cheek.

Merlin _was_ sleeping in his arms, however, and this _was_ Gwaine, and Arthur knew that Gwaine was, apart from Guinevere and Lancelot, Merlin’s best friend.

Gwaine knew Merlin better than anyone else, and unfortunately for Arthur, Gwaine had fathomed out the king of Camelot long ago. Still, Arthur couldn’t have his knight speaking to him in such a manner. “Gwaine,” he said, giving the other man fair warning.

Gwaine cleared his throat and nodded, the smirk of a few seconds earlier gone. “Do you think Morgana’s behind Merlin being turned into a baby?” he asked seriously, his forehead creased in worry.

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied, shaking his head and looking down at Merlin, who continued to sleep, oblivious to all that was going on. “I spoke to Agravaine before coming to see you, and he seems to think it must be her, but why would she want to do this to Merlin?” Arthur asked.

He didn’t miss the shift in Gwaine’s demeanor when Agravaine’s name was mentioned. “What do you know, Gwaine? Tell me now,” Arthur said with as much authority as he could muster.

“Do you remember when Gaius was kidnapped?” Gwaine asked as he retrieved his sword and put it away with the others.

As if Arthur could forget. Merlin still gave him grief over that and probably always would… a thought that made Arthur’s shoulders slump. He stared at Merlin’s tiny baby face, and had to close his eyes and gather himself. “Yes. Continue,” he forced himself to say, his voice flat as Merlin began stirring, looking as if it wouldn’t be much longer before he would be doing what most babies Arthur had ever held did—cry. Arthur motioned for Gwaine to carry on.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say, Arthur, and I wouldn’t normally say anything with nothing more than what little information I have, but now Merlin’s involved and he’s the best friend I have.”

“Yes, yes, Gwaine, as lovely as your walk down memory lane is, hurry along. Merlin’s about to show us his lungs and, as you so helpfully pointed out, I haven’t anything to offer him,” Arthur said. He sneered when Gwaine grinned cheekily.

“I think Agravaine could be working with Morgana,” Gwaine said quickly, no doubt waiting for an explosion from Arthur.

Arthur opened his mouth to defend his uncle, but when he thought back to Merlin’s fervent and passionate pleas that Gaius was innocent and that Agravaine was lying—well, Arthur couldn’t ignore Gwaine’s thoughts. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew what his uncle was capable of, especially after their conversation the previous day.

He didn’t really believe Agravaine could be working with Morgana or anyone else against the kingdom, but he wouldn’t discount the theory. Not yet. But why would Morgana want to harm Merlin? Although, when Arthur thought about it a few seconds more, he wondered why _wouldn’t_ she?

She knew full well how close Merlin and her half-brother were. Of course she would think to do something harmful to Merlin, because she knew Arthur well—she had to know that he would move heaven and hell to get _his_ Merlin back.

Merlin began to cry, and the small cries quickly became wails. Arthur panicked and looked to Gwaine, who without a moment’s hesitation took Merlin and began walking with him, smiling like a fool and making the most nonsensical noises Arthur had ever heard.

Arthur snorted and began to protest, but when Merlin ceased his crying, Arthur realised that he’d make the most asinine sounds known to man if it meant Merlin wouldn’t cry.

As stoic as Arthur was, he had never been able to stomach hearing babies cry; it had always made him feel helpless because the babies weren’t able to tell anyone what they needed or wanted. Morgana had said that it probably had to do with the fact that as a baby, Arthur hadn't received much attention from his father, who had left his rearing to that of servants.

Arthur didn’t know if that were true, but what he did know was that he never wanted Gwaine to be too far away as long as Merlin was a baby.

After Arthur swore Gwaine to secrecy about what they’d discussed regarding Agravaine and Morgana, they went to the kitchens where they were given a bottle with milk in it, and took Merlin to Arthur’s chambers.

As Arthur watched Gwaine feed Merlin, who was making slurping noises as milk dribbled down his chin, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Some things never changed. Merlin was just as messy an eater as a baby as he was as an adult.

Gwaine looked up sometime later and let out a huge breath as he shook his head at Arthur, no doubt bewildered with the fact that he was holding a baby Merlin in his arms, feeding him a bottle. Arthur understood. What were they going to do? They weren’t prepared to care for a baby.

There were plenty of women within the walls of Camelot more than able to take care of Merlin—they could also feed him as he needed to be—but Arthur was loath to let Merlin out of his sight.

One of the kitchen maids had said something about her sister possibly being able to nurse Merlin during the day, so that was most of the feeding part taken care of, but Arthur knew he couldn’t put his duties on hold to be with Merlin.

He would give his uncle no further reason to question his loyalty to Camelot. He needed someone to care for Merlin during the day.

He knew just the person.

“I ne—” but Arthur closed his mouth when Gwaine, who had been smiling and making more of those ridiculous noises, frowned as he looked up at Arthur strangely. “What is it?” Arthur thought maybe Merlin had messed in the nappy the servants in the kitchens had put on him.

“Arthur, Merlin’s eyes. Come look,” Gwaine said as he sat down, laying Merlin on his knees so the baby was looking up at him and Arthur. “I don’t think he sees me,” he elaborated, looking up at Arthur and letting out a frustrated sigh.

Sure enough, Arthur noticed straight away what Gwaine was going on about. “Hey, Merlin, can you see me waving?” Arthur waved and smiled. He thought maybe Merlin was trying to look his way, but Merlin definitely wasn’t focusing and each of his eyes were looking in different directions.

“I don’t think Merlin had any problems with his sight, did he?” asked Gwaine, moving his hands over Merlin’s eyes, trying to get him to follow his movements.

Arthur shook his head. “Not that he talked much about his life in Ealdor, but as far as I know, his sight has always been fine. Gaius might know more. I think I’ll have a word with him later,” Arthur said as he stood and walked to the window, looking out as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the blooming headache.

“I was already thinking that you should go to Ealdor and bring Merlin’s mother back with you,” Arthur said after a few minutes of silence, “but now with something wrong with Merlin’s eyes, Hunith _needs_ to be here; she’ll be able to care for her son better than us.”

“But he can’t see, Gaius,” Arthur whinged.

Gaius settled a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “He can see, Sire, just not as well as most people.”

“So you knew that he had an eye problem?” Arthur asked, curious and possibly more than a bit hurt that Merlin had never shared such an important piece of information with him.

Merlin’s bad eyes were possibly the reason he was forever acting the role of an idiot. Had Arthur known, he thought he probably wouldn’t have been so mean to his servant for dropping things and tripping over his own feet.

“Yes, I knew,” Gaius replied, an arched eyebrow for emphasis as he took a deep breath and shook his head tiredly. “And before you ask, no, I will not divulge the particulars. Merlin must have had his reasons for not telling you. Perhaps Hunith will be more forthcoming if you ask her when she arrives.”

Yes, Arthur would ask Merlin’s mother. He needed to understand. He wanted to be able to help, but what if he couldn’t?

He had only known of two blind people, thus he wasn’t well-versed in the everyday struggles they went through, but he knew they never worked and that they led solitary lives, away from the action of the kingdom. It wasn’t the life Arthur wanted for Merlin, but he knew that he might not have a choice.

It wasn’t long before Arthur took his leave; Gaius was busy with patients—the absence of Merlin was indeed making the court physician’s daily tasks more laborious—and Arthur had a council meeting within the hour. It was one of those sessions that could very well last through the afternoon and long into the night, so he wanted to go see Merlin before his attentions would be otherwise engaged.

Arthur turned in the direction of his chambers, doing his best to avoid anyone who might have questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, so of course, his luck being non-existent, Agravaine was walking towards him. Arthur sighed and thought about making a hasty turn in the other direction, but his uncle had probably already seen him.

Sure enough, Agravaine made his way to Arthur and smirked. Arthur chewed on his bottom lip and tried to calm himself. He couldn’t afford to allow his uncle to rile him.

In lieu of making a snide remark—yes, even princes could do that—Arthur forced a smile and thanked his upbringing for teaching him the fine art of fakery as his uncle opened his mouth.

“I must admit to being surprised that you left _little Merlin_. I thought you trusted him to no one, Arthur. Certainly not with me,” Agravaine said, giving his nephew an equally fictitious smile.

“Come now, Uncle. You know I never said any such thing. I just feel that Merlin would prefer me to care for him. I don’t think it is a secret that he doesn’t particularly care for you.” Arthur seethed on the inside, but managed to keep up his phony grin.

“Too right, Sire. We wouldn’t want to upset the little tyke, would we? But, if you do find that you need me, you know where to find me.”

“I do,” Arthur replied succinctly, thinking that his uncle must be completely mental if he thought his nephew was buying his saccharine tale.

Agravaine began walking away, but then turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Arthur. “Take care of baby Merlin, Arthur. He wouldn’t last an hour outside the citadel in his current condition.” Having had his say, he sauntered off, a small chuckle his parting shot.

Arthur stood there, momentarily unable to move, his mouth open. He didn’t know what to do. What had Agravaine meant? Did he know about Merlin not being able to see well? Or was he merely talking about his being a baby? Arthur wished he knew, but it wasn’t as if he could ask.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? There was no one Arthur felt safe going to about what had happened. Someone had changed Merlin into a baby for nefarious purposes, of that Arthur had no doubt. He needed to find out who and why and how so he could have them change Merlin back. But how was he to go about doing that when he wasn’t sure whom he could trust?

His thoughts overwhelming him, Arthur once again turned towards his chambers.

He could only hope that his uncle would soon leave to check on the upheaval in the neighbouring villages. There were things Agravaine was busy with in Camelot at the moment, but he had assured Arthur he’d leave as soon as he could.

When Arthur opened his door, he momentarily wondered if he was in the correct chambers. The room he was looking at little resembled the pristine space he had left earlier.

Baby clothes were strewn about the floor, a blanket was hanging over the back of Arthur’s chair, an empty bottle lay on its side on his table, and there were little cloth toys scattered about. He could hear Percival, Elyan, and Leon talking to Merlin, not a one of them speaking in their regular voices.

Arthur grinned, remembering how ridiculous Gwaine had looked and sounded when he’d first talked to baby Merlin.

This, Arthur couldn’t wait to see.

The vaunted knights of Camelot. Men who had taken an oath to protect the realm at all costs. A group of noble soldiers feared across the five kingdoms.

Three of them were speaking to an infant Merlin as if they themselves were babies.

Hearing Elyan doing such wasn’t at all a surprise to Arthur—Guinevere’s brother had taken to baby Merlin straight away—but Leon and Percival had been rather reticent about being around a baby, even if it was Merlin. To hear them now, however, Arthur had the feeling that little Merlin had won them over.

He laughed as he walked across the room. Of course Merlin had won them over. He was _Merlin_ , after all.

When Gwaine and Hunith returned to Camelot, Merlin’s mother immediately took charge of her son, going about her business as if she had been raising children for years. Arthur and the others were in awe of her motherly tendencies, not only with her son, but towards them as well.

“Did he have eye problems as a child?” Arthur asked as Hunith tried to get Merlin, who was seated in her lap, to follow her finger. “He never said, but now that I think about it, he is—well, you know that he’s a bit prone to falling over things and the like,” Arthur said casually, with a bit of a grin, but it faded quickly when he realised Elyan was looking at him crossly. Arthur tensed, wondering what he had said to garner such a steely stare.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask what he’d said to offend Elyan, but Hunith smiled as she reached out a hand and squeezed his arm lightly as she shared a glance with Elyan. Arthur wasn’t sure what either meant, but her reassuring smile served to calm him. He tried to smile, but failed.

“Arthur,” Elyan said reproachfully, looking uncomfortable and apologetic as he glanced over at Hunith.

“No, Elyan, Arthur is right,” Hunith said as she looked into her son’s eyes. “And to answer your question,” she said as she turned back and smiled at Arthur, “yes, my son was born just as he is now, almost completely unable to see. He could and does see objects best I can tell, but it appears that he can’t see clearly.”

She then stopped and looked around her as if searching for something. She looked deep in thought. “You know what, Arthur? I think it is ti—” but then she stopped again and looked at Elyan. Her face looked pained.

“I think that is my cue to leave,” Elyan said, looking between Merlin’s mother and Arthur, no doubt sensing that the tone of Hunith’s voice had changed.

“I need to speak to Arthur alone,” she said, looking apologetic. “Do you mind, Elyan?”

Of course Elyan didn’t mind, but he did roll his eyes at Arthur and let out a small laugh as he stood. No matter that he might have been high up the pecking order in Hunith’s eyes, he had to know where he stood in relation to Arthur.

“Gwaine and I have patrol duty in half an hour,” he said as he walked over to where Hunith sat. “Patrols with _Gwaine_ are never boring. Tiring? Always, but never boring,” and he happily took Merlin into his arms and began talking to him as he walked around the room. The two shared a conversation that only they were privy to.

A few seconds later Elyan looked over at Arthur. “Tyr was asking about Merlin again. Percival and I didn’t know what to say, but we can’t keep Merlin’s condition a secret forever, Arthur,” Elyan said, returning his attention to Merlin as the baby began to fuss.

Once Elyan left, Arthur moved his chair nearer Hunith. He didn’t know what to expect, but whatever it was had to be serious if she’d kicked _Elyan_ out.

Arthur felt a foreboding chill settling over his body and he let out a huge breath. He didn’t know what to think as he watched Merlin, who was back in Hunith’s arms, his little face contorting into that pained look that all babies got before they cried, kicking his feet and moving his arms in the ways that babies did.

“Arthur, dear,” Hunith said as she checked her son’s nappy before settling him on her legs so he was looking up at her. “Elyan is right. We can’t keep Merlin’s condition a secret from everyone forever. As confident as I am that he will be returned to an adult, he is for now a baby, and as such there are certain people who need to be made aware of what has transpired. However, before we cross that bridge,” she said pensively, “there’s another secret about Merlin that _you_ do not know, and I believe it’s time you did,” she said as she moved a strand of hair from her face and leant over to kiss Merlin on the forehead.

She let out a brief laugh when one of Merlin’s little hands latched on to her hair and pulled as much as would fit into his tiny hand. “That is not what I was going for, Merlin,” she said as she carefully extricated the hair from her son’s hand.

Once Hunith had put up her hair so it was safely out of Merlin’s reach, she turned back to Arthur. “Merlin had no intention of you finding out his secret until it was safe, but I think he would agree with me that it is time to let you in on the truth.”

And as if on cue, Merlin began to fuss again, so Hunith moved him to her shoulder and began patting his back. “Just a few more minutes, Merlin. Your bottle is cooling off, but it won’t be long now, I promise,” and she began to rock back and forth.

A secret? The truth? Arthur swallowed as he watched Hunith tending her son. No matter that she now looked calm and in control, she’d sounded terrified, and it made him think back to when he’d been in Ealdor and Kanen had been threatening the villagers’ livelihoods. Merlin’s mother had looked much the same then, as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders.

He had no idea what he should say, so he said nothing. It was probably the wisest course of action at the moment. He didn’t know what to do, but when Merlin’s cries became more insistent and it was obvious that he would not be pacified any longer, Hunith pointed to the bottle on the table beside Arthur.

Arthur reached over and retrieved the bottle from the pot of water and handed it to Hunith.

“Would you like to feed him?” Hunith asked, preparing to hand Merlin over to him.

“No,” Arthur said, much too quickly, knowing he probably looked terrified, which he was. He had never got on well with babies. “Y-you go ahead.” He did want to feed Merlin, but he was afraid of doing something wrong. What if he made Merlin choke on the milk?

“You’re not going to break him, love,” Hunith said, smiling and looking at Arthur much the same as she looked at her son. “All he wants is for someone to give him his milk. He trusts that we will do that. I know he scares you, but don’t be afraid. I trust you with my son, Arthur. I have done for six years, and I will do so for as long as I live.”

“Next time I’ll feed him,” Arthur said as he listened to Merlin’s cries increase. “And thank you, Hunith, for trusting me. You’ll never have reason not to.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Arthur,” she said as she switched a now wailing Merlin so he was in a position to take the bottle. “Merlin’s life could be in grave danger if the truth I am about to tell you gets out.”

“You can tell me, Hunith. Merlin is safe. I would never allow any harm to come to him or you. You must believe me,” Arthur said emphatically.

Several minutes passed in silence as Hunith fed her son and hummed to him. The way she looked at him was unlike anything Arthur had ever witnessed and in that moment he wondered if his mother had ever looked at him similarly.

She probably had.

“Merlin isn’t like you or me, Arthur,” Hunith said, her voice full of emotion as she looked up at Arthur, a worrisome frown on her face.

Of course Merlin wasn’t like him, but Arthur didn’t care. He opened his mouth to say that very thing, but changed his mind. Merlin’s mother was pale and looked as if she could break out in tears at any moment.

Usually any sign of emotion would have set Arthur on edge—he didn’t do well with others showing emotion—but for some reason this time it didn’t much bother him, probably because he wanted so badly to make Merlin’s mother understand that she could tell him anything… or that she really needed not tell him anything, because he was fairly certain he knew what it was that she was struggling to say. 

He'd often wondered, but it wasn't until Hunith had looked so very anguished as she spoke that Arthur had understood (or thought he did).

“Hunith, I kn—” he started to say.

“You love my son, do you not?” she asked at the same time, her eyes studying Arthur intently, as if she was searching for something hidden.

“I do,” Arthur said without thought. He had never considered keeping the truth from Hunith, but acknowledging such made him feel lonely and bereft. His Merlin was out of reach and Arthur didn’t know what to do. He could only hope Hunith was correct that the Merlin he knew and missed would return to him.

“I thought as much. I could tell the first time I saw the two of you together, Arthur, that there was something there,” Hunith said, a smile once again brightening her face as she nodded and looked down at her son, who looked as if he was now more interested in sleeping than eating. “I hope you understand that loving someone means loving everything about them: the good, the bad, the dark, the light. The known, the unknown. The weaknesses. The strengths. Do you?” she asked, her expression imploring Arthur to assure her that yes, he did as she set the bottle down beside her and repositioned her now sleeping son so she could burp him.

Swallowing, Arthur had to take a few deep breaths and will his voice to cooperate. “My half-sister, Morgana—she came with me to Ealdor to help rid your village of Kanen and his men—is a sorceress and has turned against Camelot. She wishes me dead, Hunith, but I will never stop loving her. There is nothing she could do to change that.” And Arthur meant every word.

“I don’t like what she has become and I loathe the person she now is, but my love for her will forever remain close to my heart. No one can ever take that from me. Or her. Someone will always love her.”

That said, Arthur swallowed, willing the lump in his throat to dissipate. He rarely spoke of Morgana because it was so very hard. He would grieve her loss forever.

She had felt abandoned and had turned on them all. There wasn’t a day that passed in which Arthur didn’t wish he could go find her and tell her that despite all the horrible things she had done to them that they could start anew and go forth from there.

Alas, that fairytale ending would never be. The former Morgana Pendragon was forever lost to them.

Although Arthur couldn’t be sure what Merlin’s secret was that Hunith was about to reveal, he thought he knew and if his thoughts were correct, Arthur would move heaven and earth to make sure that what had happened to his sister didn’t happen to Merlin.

The thought was so overwhelming that Arthur had to briefly close his eyes to get his emotions under control.

That familiar motherly smile in full force, Hunith patted Arthur on his knee. “Thank you for sharing that with me, dear. I have fond memories of your sister and it saddens me greatly to hear what has become of her,” she said, her voice changing, now much softer, a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were thinking of something sad.

A particularly loud belch broke the silence that had befallen the room. “Good boy, Merlin,” Hunith said as she continued patting her son’s back. “Give me one more and I’ll let you sleep.”

Once Merlin made his second burp, Hunith stood, walked over to the cot and carefully placed Merlin within before returning to her chair and sitting down. She looked across at Arthur as if waiting for him to ask her to continue; she looked tired and distraught, and continued looking over at her son, as if he were the most important thing in her life.

“Merlin, like my half-sister, is a sorcerer,” Arthur finally said slowly, his voice trembling as he forced out the words, his hands shaking. “Is that his secret?” Arthur asked hesitantly, looking over at Merlin and shaking his head, feeling immense grief and sorrow—not for Merlin being a sorcerer, but for Arthur’s former views about those who had magic.

If Merlin were what some called a warlock (that’s what he’d heard male sorcerers were called), magic couldn’t possibly be bad.

“Yes, Arthur,” Hunith replied nervously, “but unlike Morgana, Merlin only uses his magic for good. In fact, he uses it for you, Arthur, to keep you safe. He hasn’t an evil bone in his body.”

That went without saying. “Hunith, your son is the most genuine person I’ve ever known. The first time we met he was defending someone against me; he didn’t know who I was, but even when he did, he continued to stand up to me. He’s never let me use my status against anyone. He is constantly putting me in my place. He is infuriating at times and sometimes I wonder how he makes it from here to there without getting himself maimed, but he does. Now I guess I know how.”

There was so much more that Arthur wished to say, but at the moment Hunith looked as if she were having a difficult time, and why wouldn’t she? She’d just revealed a secret that could bring about her son’s death. “Thank you,” he finally said. It was hardly enough, but it was all he had.

Hunith nodded as she stood and again walked over to the cot and looked down at her sleeping son. She stood there for a long while, staring at him, rubbing his back, tears falling down her face, onto her tunic.

Sometime later Arthur, lost in thought, felt a kiss on his head.

“How are you, Arthur?” Hunith asked as she sat down. “Despite your thoughts that Merlin probably had magic, now you know that he is indeed a sorcerer. It is not an insignificant revelation I’ve made about my son.”

To be honest, Arthur didn’t know how to feel or what to think at the moment, but he didn’t want to frighten Hunith. He looked her in the eyes and nodded, needing to be very clear. “Hunith, I honestly don’t know what to think, but what I do know is that neither you nor Merlin have anything to worry about. As you asked me and as I told you, I do love your son. I would give my life for him. You have nothing to fear from me.”

The look of relief on Hunith’s face was a welcome sight. Merlin’s mother had so much to worry about at the moment, so for her to have one less fear meant everything to Arthur.

“I can’t tell you how much I needed to hear you say that, Arthur. The reason I decided to tell you now is not because I need you to know in order to protect him—I knew that would happen whether you knew his secret or not—but because you asked about his eyes. I need you to understand that it is his magic that allows him to see as he does now… or as well as he did when he was an adult. It is his magic that has allowed him to lead a relatively normal life. Without magic, Merlin’s life would be vastly different, Arthur.”

Arthur stood in Merlin’s chambers, rocking the crying baby in his arms as he waited for Gaius to finish his examination of Hunith, who had woken up feeling unwell. Apparently there was something going around Camelot. Gaius was finally feeling better, but he was still moving around rather lethargically.

Seeing Hunith ill reminded Arthur of what had happened to her the year Merlin arrived in Camelot. She’d nearly died. Arthur didn’t know the full story, but he did know that Merlin hadn’t told him everything.

Arthur’d suspected then that magic had been involved and now that he knew Merlin was indeed a sorcerer, he was positive that someone had cursed Hunith. It had nearly broken Merlin then and Arthur knew that Merlin would always blame himself if anything happened to his mother now.

Arthur would not allow anything bad to happen to her. Hunith had to get better. Merlin needed her. They all needed her. In the week she had been in Camelot she had become an indelible part of their lives.

Merlin started to cry more emphatically. Arthur, still not at all comfortable with a crying baby, but getting better because he had no choice, sat down on Merlin’s bed. He carefully set the baby down.

He grimaced as he checked Merlin’s nappy. One thing he would never become accustomed to was the smell of soiled nappies. Well, that and cleaning up after Merlin sneezed, which was perhaps even worse than changing nappies.

Thankfully, Merlin’s nappy was clean for now.

“Are you hungry, little one?” Arthur reached over to Merlin’s bedside table and retrieved the bottle Leon had brought in before he left on patrol.

Arthur sighed contentedly as he settled Merlin in his arms, against his chest, and put the bottle in the little mouth. Those small lips immediately went to town as they began to suck down the milk.

Arthur grinned. He very much enjoyed feeding Merlin these days—his fears had quickly dissipated within seconds after Hunith placed her son within his arms and handed him the bottle—but he rarely had the opportunity to do so, especially during the day.

Usually from sun-up to sun-down he was out on patrol, in council meetings, or training with Leon and the other knights. He was meant to be on patrol this day as well, but he wasn’t about to leave with Hunith being ill. Merlin needed him.

As Merlin continued to scarf down the milk in huge gulps, Arthur was surprised he didn’t choke. Merlin was downing the milk so quickly, but Hunith had assured him that all babies drank like that—their little throats were accustomed to it and their swallowing reflexes could accommodate the almost constant gulps. Arthur tried to imagine himself downing a flagon of mead that quickly as he was lying down. He let out a chuckle.

“Your mother is going to be fine, Merlin. She’s just tired is all. I think we depend on her to do too much. When you’re back to your old self we’re going to have to do something special for her,” Arthur said, and the closed eyes of Merlin opened and looked around the room before he closed them again and continued drinking from the bottle, his little eyebrows moving with each swallow.

“Arthur?” Gaius called out several minutes later as he peeked through the cracked door.

“Yes?” answered Arthur, standing and walking towards the door, Merlin in his arms. “What is wrong with Hunith?”

“Come, sit,” the physician said, motioning Arthur to have a seat at the table. “Don’t forget to burp him when he’s finished,” Gaius added, a smile on his face. He handed Arthur a cloth to put over his shoulder and watched him take the now empty bottle and set it on the work bench.

Arthur did as he was told—not that he’d needed reminding. “Is Hunith going to get well?” he asked as he sat Merlin in his lap and began patting him on the back.

In the beginning he had put Merlin on his shoulder and burped him that way, but he preferred to sit Merlin on his lap and pat his back. Merlin seemed to respond to that much better. Also, Arthur couldn’t help that he enjoyed the expressions Merlin made at any time of the day, especially when he burped. It tickled Arthur to no end.

“Arthur, Hunith’s presence has been beneficial for her son, but she cannot keep on as she has been. She is not seriously ill, but if she keeps up her current schedule she will be. She needs help,” Gaius said as he moved a phial and flagon from his work bench to the table. “She cannot afford to get any sicker. Merlin needs her.”

That was a gross understatement if ever there were one. Arthur nodded as he continued to pat Merlin on the back, but inwardly, he groaned. He knew precisely what Gaius was getting at.

Hunith and Gaius had been talking about Guinevere earlier.

She was living in Ealdor.

Asking Guinevere to return to help Hunith with Merlin seemed such an obvious solution, though Arthur wasn’t sure he was ready to see her. The pain was still so very raw, but Merlin needed her and what Merlin needed would always trump everything else in Arthur’s eyes. He looked down at Merlin and sighed heartily. “Would you like it if Guinevere came to help your mother?”

A loud burp was his answer. Arthur couldn’t help the grin as he looked up at Gaius. “Merlin has spoken. Leon can go to Ealdor and bring Guinevere back with him.”

“I apologize for not being able to come sooner, Sire,” Guinevere said, bowing her head, barely able to meet Arthur’s gaze.

“You need not apologize, Guinevere. I am just pleased that you agreed to come and help Hunith,” Arthur said, still very unsure of himself. How was he to act with Guinevere?

He watched as Leon helped her down from her horse and a pang of sadness went through him. He wondered if the hurt would ever go away. “Hunith says she is fine now and needs no help, and perhaps she doesn’t, but I know Merlin trusts you, and that he would appreciate you helping his mother.”

Arthur thought he sounded much too formal, but how else was he to be with the woman he had hoped to marry? It wasn’t as if they’d ever be able to go back to how things were before.

Guinevere looked over at Hunith and smiled before returning her attention to Arthur. “May I go see Merlin?” she asked.

“Yes, but I am afraid you will find him much changed,” Arthur said, a frown on his face.

“He’s a baby, Arthur,” Guinevere said flatly, trying not to smile.

Over the next few days Merlin’s magic finally kicked in and he went from an infant who did little more than move his arms and legs and blow bubbles occasionally, to a near-toddler who could say several words that no one understood and a few that were easier to decipher.

He also began attempting to crawl and seemed to get better at it with each passing second.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7768750?view_full_work=true)

His being mobile kept everyone on their toes and had Arthur thinking that in no time Merlin would be walking, a thought that brought mixed emotions, ones that Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to think about.

And as if Merlin had been reading Arthur’s mind, he’d also begun to pull himself up whenever a chair or anything else that would support his weight was near. He seemed bound and determined to grow up, and as much as Arthur wished Merlin _were_ grown, he thought he should like it if Merlin didn’t grow up so fast.

Gaius had grinned and patted Arthur on the back when he’d said as much, and told him that his feelings were normal, that it was the lament of all adults who raised children.

Unfortunately, Merlin’s magic hadn’t changed his eyesight, at least as far as anyone could tell, so everyone had to be extra careful with him when he was crawling or trying to do one of a million things that toddlers did.

Guinevere had moved all the dangerous items to the wardrobe and lined the room with pillows, but somehow Merlin always seemed to find something that he shouldn’t.

Currently he was seated in Guinevere’s lap, playing with a soft green and orange dragon that Gaius had given him the day before. Merlin seemed to be having a private conversation with it that only the two could understand.

“Giiin?” Merlin called out in his small voice, lifting up his hand, waving the dragon as he looked up at her. “Whe fi?”

“Sorry?” Guinevere said, looking at Arthur for help. “I’m afraid my baby speak is out of practice,” she said with a small grin.

Arthur, who was seated across from them, polishing his boots—seeing as how his servant was a baby who would rather put the flagon of polish in his mouth than on the boots—looked up and couldn’t help but laugh when Guinevere gave him a perplexed look, obviously asking for help.

“He’s asking where the fire is, Guinevere. Don’t you know that dragons are supposed to have fire coming out of their nostrils?” Arthur chuckled as he finished polishing the boot in his hand. “His mum told him a story about a dragonlord the other day, so now Merlin tells the dragon to breathe fire over and over and over and over.” Arthur let out another small laugh and shook his head. 

He thought he had probably laughed more since Merlin had been turned into a baby than he had laughed the whole of his life.

Guinevere stood and carried Merlin to Arthur. “Duly noted, little one,” she said as she handed Merlin to Arthur, who sat the baby on his knees and bounced a now laughing Merlin. “You’re good with him,” she said as she knelt and picked up the dragon Merlin had dropped, “but don’t forget that you don’t need to hold him every minute of the day. Merlin needs to get around on his own, Arthur.”

Arthur felt his defenses go up and very nearly said that if Guinevere wanted Merlin to be on the floor then she should have put him there instead of handing Merlin to him, but he chose to let it go and change the subject. “Elyan said he and you would be visiting your father’s grave tomorrow.”

“Yes, Elyan has never been,” she replied as Merlin reached out and grabbed hold of her hair, pulling on it enough that it had to hurt. She carefully extricated the locks from the little fingers and ruffled Merlin’s hair as she handed him the dragon. “Speaking of Elyan, Merlin, he can’t wait to see you; I think he might have made you something.” She looked up at Arthur. “I told him not to, but you know Elyan,” she said.

“I’m not sure I want to know what he's made this time,” Arthur said halfheartedly, but he couldn’t wait to see what it was that Elyan had crafted for Merlin. “I’d feel better if Leon went with the two of you on your journey,” he said seriously, because he really would feel better having Leon with them, but his request wasn’t only for protection.

Arthur hadn’t missed the small glances Leon and Guinevere had been sharing since her return to Camelot.

He’d never ever admit to helping them along, and he wasn’t quite ready to cease his brooding over what had transpired between Lancelot and Guinevere, but Arthur was working on it and every day seemed to bring him closer to that eventuality.

“It has already been arranged, Arthur,” Guinevere said, a small smile on her face as if she'd known what Arthur had been thinking. “The three of us leave at first light.”

Satisfied that all would be well, Arthur returned his attention to Merlin, who had once again dropped the dragon and now had one of his little hands in his mouth, slobbering all over it, the other playing with the ring on Arthur’s finger, trying to take it off.

Arthur had the urge to remove the ring from his finger and hand it to Merlin—the older Merlin had also been fascinated with the ring for some unknown reason—but Arthur didn’t wish for his ring to be covered in baby slobber and possibly spit-up milk, and more importantly, he certainly didn’t want Merlin to swallow the ring and have it lodge in his throat. 

Gaius had already given Arthur a long talk about baby safety and he really didn’t relish another.

Guinevere offered Arthur a cloth when Merlin removed his hand and left behind a trail of slobber that went from his mouth and seemed to never end. It never ceased to amaze Arthur how the slobber ended up _everywhere_ , especially all over _him_ : in his hair, on his shirt, and even on his chainmail. But Arthur didn’t much mind.

He took the cloth and cleaned a jabbering Merlin as best he could, then let out a chuckle when Merlin let out a long yawn, his little eyes scrunching closed before he sneezed.

Arthur made a face and handed the cloth to Guinevere a bit too quickly. She rolled her eyes at him as she wiped Merlin’s nose. Arthur wasn’t quite up to doing that yet, but he knew sooner or later he’d have to.

Gwaine had laughed heartily when Arthur had asked Guinevere for help a few days earlier, saying something about what was worse than wiping a nose was changing a dirty nappy. Thinking on it now, Arthur had to admit Gwaine had a point, but the idea of possibly touching the icky stuff that came out of Merlin’s nose was more threatening to him than changing a smelly nappy.

Guinevere had agreed with Gwaine that runny noses were much easier to deal with than dirty nappies, and she had assured Arthur that sooner or later he would get _poopy_ on his hands just as he got bogeys.

“I see a sleepy boy,” Guinevere said as she looked up at Arthur. “Has Arthur tired you out, Merlin?” she asked as she once again took the seat she’d vacated earlier. “I think he plays with you and gets you all worked up more than the rest of us put together,” she added as she rolled her eyes at Arthur, who was picking up Merlin’s dragon from the floor. “You know, Merlin, Arthur really is just a big kid at heart, but don’t you hold that against him.” She smiled at Arthur, but it was guarded, as it always was these days.

Arthur gave a curt nod as he handed the dragon to Merlin. Guinevere was right, of course. On all counts, but he couldn’t feel the least bit guilty about spending time with Merlin. “Guilty as charged, Guinevere,” he said as he looked at her, feeling more comfortable in her presence. He knew Merlin had much to do with that, but whatever the reason, he was thankful.

“I was talking to Gaius earlier,” he said, changing the subject, “and he says that if we can’t reverse whatever has been done to Merlin, it will take time, but at the rate Merlin is growing, he thinks it might be a few years. Merlin should be back to how he was sooner than Gaius originally thought.” Arthur tried to grin. What Gaius had told him was good news, right? But he just couldn’t imagine having to watch Merlin grow up.

Guinevere smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, but I hope it will be sooner. As adorable as Merlin is as a baby, I miss my friend,” she said, sadness woven into her every word. “Have the patrols seen anything suspicious? There has to be something,” she said as she looked at Merlin and sighed.

Arthur shook his head. Nothing out of the ordinary had been discovered, and Morgana was nowhere to be seen. It was as if she had purposely gone into hiding; Arthur figured she had done that very thing. He ran a hand through Merlin’s baby-fine hair. Someone was playing a dangerous game with Merlin’s life and Arthur didn’t at all take kindly to that.

Fortunately, Agravaine had left the week previous to meet with the neighbouring villages’ elders, so he had no idea that Merlin was growing as he was, but Arthur knew the time was approaching when Agravaine would find out, and he would know Merlin had magic. Such knowledge did nothing to quell Arthur’s nerves.

“Guinevere, what if Merlin has to age like a normal child?” Arthur asked, looking up at her, feeling as if he’d lost his best friend.

“You just told me Gaius sa—” she started.

“Yes, but what if he stops growing?” Arthur interrupted.

“Arthur, trust in what Gaius said, and most importantly, trust in Merlin,” she said, a sympathetic look on her face.

“I’m trying,” Arthur said as he looked down at Merlin, who was attempting to pull off one of the dragon’s eyes.

“It’s still a bit daunting that Merlin has magic,” Guinevere said, letting out a small laugh. “He would be the last person I’d suspect of being a sorcerer, but at least now I know how my father was cured when he was so ill and near death,” she added.

“Yes, well, it came as quite the shock to me as well,” Arthur said, looking perplexed. “I always thought having magic would make one impervious to having difficulties, but as we now know, that can’t be true as Merlin was such an idiot,” he added, glancing behind him as he heard someone entering. He guessed it was Hunith, and he smiled when she entered, but at the same time he noticed that Guinevere was glaring at him. “What?”

“You can be so insensitive, Arthur,” she said, sighing as she looked over at Hunith.

“It is true, Arthur. My son is indeed clumsy and accident-prone,” Hunith said as she approached Merlin and tickled him, making him laugh. “Merlin having magic has not and will never prevent that,” she said as she looked between Arthur and Guinevere. She then took her son in her arms and looked admonishingly at Arthur.

“Please don’t call Merlin an idiot. I know you mean nothing bad by it, Arthur, but when he was a small boy a neighbor of ours would call Merlin that every time he saw him and it upset him; he probably forgot it long ago, but I have not.”

Arthur was sure he felt his body go stone cold. He couldn’t have talked had he tried, so he nodded, sure that his face told Hunith all she needed to know.

“Don’t look so sad, Arthur, I still love you,” Hunith said as she leant down and kissed him on the head. “Now, if the two of you will excuse us, I know someone who is hungry, so I need to go prepare him a bottle, but we’ll be back later. I know Sirs Percival and Leon will be here to have their _Merlin time_. I’m not sure who has more fun, them or Merlin,” Hunith said as she worked a particularly tough bogey from her son’s nose as he did his best to turn away from the unwanted digit. Having dislodged it, she wiped it on the cloth that rested over her shoulder.

Arthur made a face.

Hunith grinned as she shared a look with Guinevere. “It’s not that horrible, Arthur. You will live after removing bogeys, I assure you, but to answer your unasked question of how can I do this, it’s quite simple. I’m his mother. You’ll know what parenting means one day, and believe me when I say that when that day comes you’ll do anything your child needs for you to do.”

Hunith gave Arthur her familiar motherly grin as she lovingly patted him on the head. “And while we are talking about what Merlin needs, he needs for you and the others to let him crawl. I know how adorable and lovable my son is, but if you hold him all the time he isn’t going to get any stronger, is he? If I am correct, Gwen has already told you this, yes?”

“But what if he bumps into something?” Arthur said, flustered.

“Then he bumps into something, Arthur. Look around you. Your chambers have already been Merlin-proofed with pillows lining the walls, bed, table, and chairs. It is doubtful there is a safer place within the kingdom for him to explore than in here,” she said, hugging her son to her and kissing him all over his face. “Isn’t that right, Merlin? You want to grow up to be strong and independent, yes?”

“Yes,” Arthur said quietly, looking out of his peripheral vision at Guinevere. He detested it when Hunith and Guinevere seemed to gang up on him, but he guessed they were right.

“Mumamma,” Merlin said in reply and then turned and looked in Arthur’s direction. “Bye, At,” and he waved his hand before he turned to Guinevere. “Bye, Giin. Me go eeeeeeet. Et go, mumeeeeeeee.”

“We’ll be back soon,” said Hunith, then she and Merlin left.

Merlin hadn’t been gone a few seconds and already Arthur missed him. “I think I got off rather lightly with Hunith,” he said, still embarrassed by what had just transpired. “She had every right to let me have it.”

Guinevere nodded. “Yes, she did, Arthur, but I think she knew that all she needed to do with you was tell you what not to do and you would listen. I must say that you looked rather sad when she was reprimanding you. It reminded me of my father when he was cross with Elyan. As you know, my brother was a sensitive child and couldn’t take it when anyone got cross with him.”

“Guinevere,” Arthur said, looking at her as if she should know better, “I was not a sensitive child, nor am I a sensitive adult. If I was sad it was because I upset Hunith and Merlin.” Arthur stared at Guinevere but his frown quickly morphed into a small grin. Why was it impossible to be upset with Guinevere?

“No, I would definitely agree, Arthur,” Guinevere said, rolling her eyes. “You don’t have a sensitive bone in your body—until Merlin is around, and you can’t deny it,” she said, daring him to do so.

He said nothing, but Guinevere would no doubt think he was sulking. Perhaps he was.

“You’re good with him. He’s good for you,” she said, looking unsure of herself as Arthur looked oddly at her. “I mean, I’m talking about now, of course—how you are with baby Merlin and how he takes to you, but I also mean, well, you know what I mean,” she added hastily, looking uncomfortable. “I think the two of you were meant for one another.” She then gave Arthur a side glance, no doubt gauging his reaction.

Hearing Guinevere saying all of this pained Arthur for far too many reasons. As unfair as she had been to him regarding Lancelot, he had been the same to her with Merlin. “So how did you find out about my feelings for Merlin? It seems everyone knew. Am I that transparent, Guinevere?” he asked, genuinely needing to know.

He knew he wore his heart on his sleeve, thanks to Morgana, but he thought he had gotten better at hiding his feelings, especially where Merlin was concerned.

“No, Arthur. We were the ones who were around you and Merlin the most; we saw how the two of you interacted. It wasn’t difficult to realise the two of you were more than friends. I doubt anyone on the outside would ever think the two of you were anything other than master and servant.”

“But, Guinevere, we _were_ only friends. No matter that I might have wanted more, I never did anything about it. I can’t even say for certain what he felt for me. I could guess, but that’s all it would be,” Arthur said, feeling a pang of sadness ripple though him.

“He’s loved you for a long while, Arthur. He only ever had eyes for you. Even when I was giving him every hint in the world that I was interested in him, he was completely oblivious.” She let out a brief laugh and rolled her eyes again. “Merlin was just as oblivious to my feelings as you were about Morgana’s feelings for you,” but as soon as she said it she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Arthur. That was not my place and it was inconsiderate. I sho—”

“Guinevere, it’s fine. I am well aware that Morgana was once interested in me,” Arthur said, letting out a huge breath and moving his hands in that way he did when he was nervous. “I should be honest and tell you that her feelings weren’t completely one-sided. There was a time I thought she and I would end up together; my father certainly did all in his power to try to make that happen. Fortunately, I came to my senses,” he said, running a hand over his face.

“Yes,” Guinevere answered, and she said no more, but neither did she turn away. She held Arthur’s gaze for several seconds before finally breaking eye contact.

Arthur thought about changing the subject to something less intrusive, but he was curious and he mightn’t ever get another opportunity to question Guinevere. “So then you and Merlin were never more than friends?” Arthur asked, not quite believing he and Guinevere were having such a conversation. “I admit I was curious.”

A small laugh was Guinevere’s response as she shook her head, but she sobered quickly and cleared her throat. “I kissed him once, but that was as far as we ever got. As I’ve said, he only had eyes for you.”

“I haven’t a clue why; I certainly never gave him reason to do anything other than resent me,” Arthur said dismissively, but he did understand why Merlin might reciprocate his feelings. Merlin had been searching all his life for the same thing Arthur had.

Arthur gave Guinevere a nod and it was at that moment he realised he was fine. He would never completely get over what she and Lancelot had done, but he had already gone some way in forgiving Lancelot—he had sent him off to have a proper burial via Merlin—and now he needed to do the same with Guinevere.

“Guinevere, I need you to know that I want for you to be happy in whatever you do. It wasn’t meant to be between us, and for what I put you through I am so very sorry; I was unfair to you and for that I have no excuse, other than my truth, which you obviously have known for some time,” said Arthur, hoping that she understood. She had hurt him by loving Lancelot, yes, but he had also hurt her by loving Merlin, and although Guinevere and Lancelot had been caught in a compromising position, neither of them loving someone else was worse than the other. “I know there’s someone out there for you.”

Arthur fervently hoped for Leon to be that someone.

Guinevere attempted a smile. It didn’t quite make it, but she nodded and roughly wiped a tear from her face. “I did love you, Arthur. I never lied about that, but I loved Lancelot as well. I cannot deny that, nor can I explain it, but it doesn’t matter now. Lancelot is gone,” she said, another tear falling down her cheek as she looked up towards the ceiling, then back at Arthur.

“Don’t ever let Merlin get away, Arthur. Promise me that when you get him back you will let him know every second of every day how special he is to you,” and then the tears came freely and Guinevere took her leave.

“A word?” Gwaine said as he descended the steps and watched Arthur as he got off his horse, back from morning patrol.

“What news do you bring, Gwaine? Any word on Morgana?” Arthur asked, wondering how Morgana would react to the new Merlin. She would most likely care very little until she discovered that he had magic, hence Arthur worried that word might have already reached her that the seemingly normal yet clumsy servant of the king’s was indeed much more special than anyone had dared think.

“No, but I found someone whom you might be interested in speaking to. A girl. She and her family were taken last week by a group of Saxons. She escaped this morning and we found her wandering the Darkling Woods, frightened and injured. If it is agreeable with you, I’d like to bring her back here; she is in danger and…” he began but didn’t finish the thought as he looked pensively at Arthur, a small smile slowly beginning to appear. 

Gwaine was up to something if the crinkling of his eyes meant anything, and the thought immediately set Arthur on edge. 

“And what, Gwaine? I need to go check on Merlin before I go back out on afternoon patrol,” was Arthur’s terse reply, but he couldn’t wait (or he could, but it was like one of those horse cart crashes—you hated to see them but you couldn’t look away when they did) to hear what the other had to say.

Gwaine was as loyal a knight as Camelot had ever had and he would give his life for Merlin’s in a second, but there was another side to Gwaine best described by the words sentimental and unpredictable, both of which had and could get Gwaine in a world of trouble if he wasn’t careful. Arthur could only hope that the latest plight of Gwaine’s wasn’t going to end badly.

“She might be able to help, Arthur,” Gwaine said, hesitantly. “With Merlin.”

Arthur didn’t see how a stranger could possibly help Merlin. “Out with it then. Just how do you think your damsel in distress could help Merlin?”

Gwaine told Arthur that the girl’s family had been killed as they tried to escape the Saxons. She’d had a baby who was a few months old. She could feed Merlin. Gwaine would take full responsibility for her.

Arthur had rolled his eyes at that statement, because of course Gwaine would take full responsibility for her, and the poor girl would no doubt end up warming his bed each night.

“I don’t know, Gwaine. I will not allow just anyone to be around Merlin. We don’t know her, do we?”

“That we do not, Arthur, but what if I bring her to you this evening and have her tell you what happened to her and her family. If you don’t feel right about it after your talk with her I will send her back to her village tomorrow morning at first light.”

Arthur pondered Gwaine’s suggestion and wondered if he should go with his gut and say no straight away. He was about to do that very thing when he looked over his shoulder as he heard the stable boy, Tyr, speaking to someone else.

Seeing him reminded Arthur of Merlin and what he would most likely say on the subject. He would tell Arthur to give the girl a chance, that she might be up to no good, but odds were that she was just an ordinary girl who had had really rotten luck.

Arthur sighed and nodded. “Have her in the Throne Room when the moon rises,” he reluctantly replied before he handed the reins to one of the newer stable boys and began the short trek to his chambers, thinking that there weren’t enough hours in the day to do all that needed to be done.

Training and patrols had been stepped up the previous two weeks and while no official reason had been given in the last council meeting for such, it was because of Merlin, and such knowledge gave Arthur pause and reiterated the fact that the situation was dire and that the recriminations could very well have already changed the course of Arthur’s future.

He had to believe that one day Merlin would once again be like he was a few weeks earlier—Gaius was busy researching, and Arthur had made enquiries—but how would Merlin be when that happened? And how would Arthur feel?

Would his feelings be any different? Arthur hoped not. He had come to count on Merlin for so many things and he genuinely cared for him.

Bugger the caring bit. Arthur loved Merlin, as completely mental as that sounded. They’d never even talked about liking each other and here Arthur was admitting that he had been in love with the daft boy.

“What has you looking so morose?” Guinevere asked as Arthur entered his chambers and went to take Merlin from Hunith.

Arthur took Merlin into his arms, basking in the gurgling and slobber Merlin gifted him with, and sat in his chair. He couldn’t believe that not so long ago he had been afraid of Merlin as a baby. Now, holding Merlin after hours of meetings, training, and patrols was the highlight of his day.

Once Merlin was settled and playing with his dragon, Arthur looked at Hunith, Guinevere, Elyan, and Percival, the latter two having just come in from patrols for their _Merlin time_. “I talked to Gaius this morning and he is worried that Merlin seems to not have aged any this past week.”

“Does he think Merlin won’t age quickly anymore,” Elyan asked as he popped a grape into his mouth.

Arthur shrugged. “He said it’s too early to say that, but I just…”

“You just want him back,” Hunith said, and that was all she needed to say as she continued looking at Arthur, that motherly look in her eyes. “Come on, Gwen, Elyan, and Percival; I know you came to play with my son, but I need your help with a project,” she said, a small smile on her face, leaving no doubt as to her real objective. “And Arthur doesn’t have long before he must leave for his next patrol.”

She motioned with her head towards the door. “I think Merlin needs some Arthur time,” but she looked back at Arthur, knowing full well that it was more like Arthur needed his Merlin time.

“Thanks,” Arthur mouthed. Hunith really did know him almost as well as her son did.

Once the others were gone, Arthur let out a huge sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “What have you done to me, Merlin?” he asked, and laughed when he returned his attention to a babbling baby Merlin and blue eyes looked in his direction. No, they weren’t looking directly at him, but Arthur knew Merlin saw something that made him feel protected.

That was all that mattered.

They talked about dragons and dragonlords (Merlin seemed to perk up whenever Arthur said that word), played with some old cloths that Guinevere had brought round the other day, and Arthur made Merlin laugh by tickling him. He loved that little laugh and thought it was the happiest sound he’d ever heard.

Some time later, as Arthur was allowing Merlin to crawl around and pull up on the furniture, Leon popped his head in the doorway.

“It’s time, Sire,” was all he said, but he gave Arthur a commiserating look.

“I’m coming,” Arthur reluctantly said as he stood. He looked over at Hunith, who had just walked in behind Leon. “After patrol I am meeting with someone, so I won’t be back until after the two of you have gone to bed.”

He grabbed his cape and gloves and looked down at Merlin. “Be good for your mother and don’t get yourself into any trouble,” he said, a grin on his face, but it disappeared in an instant when Merlin began crying and reached out for him.

Merlin let go of the chair, lost his balance, and began falling, but Arthur reached out and scooped him up before he could hit the floor. Merlin wasn’t hurt, but he certainly was wailing as if he were. Arthur turned to look at Hunith, unsure what was going on.

This was new. Not that Merlin didn’t cry—he was a baby, after all—but he had never cried like this when Arthur left. “It’s really not that bad, little one; I’ll see you in the morning, but I have work to do.” Arthur kissed Merlin on the forehead and stood, walking towards Hunith to hand her Merlin, but Merlin began screaming. Large tears trailed down his face.

Arthur didn’t know what to do. It had been a long day and his nerves were already on edge. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and hold Merlin all afternoon and enjoy the peace and quiet, but that wasn’t to be. “Shhh, you’re safe, Merlin. Always safe. I’ll never let anything happen to you,” and Arthur looked over when he felt Hunith’s hand on his back. He couldn’t do this. He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, feeling completely overwhelmed.

“No, Daaa, no. No leeee,” Merlin said as he reached out and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck. “Sawime.”

“Did he just call Arthur Da?” Leon asked, turning to look at Hunith, his hand on the door.

“Yes, I think he did,” Hunith said, looking hesitantly at Arthur, who looked pale as he swallowed. “It was inevitable, Arthur. You are the one Merlin spends most of his time with, and I think he is acting out as he is because when he was a baby the first time, he had no father and missed out on all that could have been. With you he knows what he could have and I think he fears you will leave him.”

Arthur went to his chair and sat down, feeling disoriented. He looked at Merlin, who had huge tears continuing to roll down his chubby cheeks, then returned his attention to Hunith and opened his mouth. He was unsure what he should say, but he gathered his thoughts and pushed on.

He wasn’t at all comfortable with the new role he seemed to have taken on, but really, there was nothing to be done for it. “We all know I’m not his father, but Merlin doesn’t know that and he can’t understand what is going on, so until he can, he can call me whatever he wants,” Arthur said, thinking he sure would like to hear Merlin call him a dollophead or clotpole.

Once Arthur calmed Merlin enough so the huge tears trickled to small trails, Arthur stood with him and walked over to the window. He looked out over Camelot and pointed towards the small houses that dotted the landscape in the distance. “You always said I needed to listen to my people more than I do. Perhaps you’re right, Merlin, and maybe I need to begin with you,” Arthur said, clearing his throat as he heard Leon and Hunith whispering.

Arthur knew he didn’t have long before he needed to leave.

“Here’s the deal, little one,” Arthur said softly as he wiped another stray tear beneath Merlin’s right eye, wondering again what exactly Merlin had done to him. “You need to let your mother and Gwen take care of you, yes? They love you so very much and would never allow anything bad to happen to you,” he said as he smiled at Guinevere, who was now standing beside Leon. “Do you understand?” Arthur asked Merlin, looking again into those familiar blue eyes, searching for something.

“Iiaa no,” was Merlin’s response, and he looked so very serious.

“We all care very much for you, Merlin. Only you could so wrap yourself around all of our hearts,” Arthur added, knowing he needed to hand Merlin to Guinevere or Hunith and leave. “I need to go with Leon. Will you be a good boy and let me go?”

“Nnnn Mgna,” Merlin said, looking far too serious for a baby. “Noo Modid,” he then said, his little eyebrows furrowing.

Arthur looked oddly at Merlin before looking at Leon. “Did he just say Morgana?” he asked, thinking how could Merlin know that they were about to go search for her.

“That’s what it sounded like,” Guinevere said as she shared a curious look with Leon before she walked over to Arthur, ready to take Merlin from him. “It’s as if he knows where you and Leon are going, Arthur, which I wouldn’t be surprised if he does. Perhaps he retains all his memories. Have you considered that?”

“What?” Arthur asked, nearly letting out a laugh as he studied Merlin. No, he hadn’t considered such. Because, well, the thought was completely mental. Wasn’t it? Merlin certainly couldn’t remember. Could he? “But he’s a baby,” Arthur said incredulously, thinking Guinevere must be mad.

He couldn’t believe there was any truth to what Guinevere said, but he humoured her as he continued studying Merlin, wondering if he really could remember anything about his past. “Do you remember being an adult?” he asked the wide-eyed baby in his arms as if Merlin could answer him with a yes or no.

Obviously, Arthur wasn’t expecting an answer, but he’d had to ask, hadn’t he? He rolled his eyes when Guinevere said something to the effect of Merlin still being a baby and how he couldn’t very well share his thoughts.

As Arthur had thought would happen, Merlin didn’t react in the slightest. Arthur sighed, somewhat in relief, but an unsettling feeling crept up and took residence in the pit of his stomach and he was reminded of his uneasiness around crying babies. What if Merlin really could remember and he was trying to tell them something?

The thought upset Arthur, but he hadn’t the time to dwell on it at the moment. “Well, he might have the thoughts of a man buried somewhere inside, but he’s still a baby with baby wants and needs, so here you go, Guinevere,” Arthur said as he handed Merlin to her. “We’ve got to go, Leon, we—” but Arthur stopped what he was saying when a small hand reached out and touched his nose.

“Atr.”

Arthur touched Merlin’s nose and grinned. “Merlin.”

Arthur had no sooner closed the door behind him when he sensed Leon staring at him. “What?” he said as he turned and looked at Leon, who had a slight grin on his face. “Don’t even start, Leon.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about Merlin, Sire,” Leon said, a grin on his face and laughter in his voice, because of course he had been about to say something about Merlin and how he had Arthur wrapped around his finger, but the grin faded and was replaced by a slight frown. “I only wanted to tell you that Gwaine went to get the girl he told you about earlier. It might be after the moon rises, but she will be here to meet with you.”

The girl. Yes. Arthur made a noncommittal grunt and found himself wishing Leon _had_ said something about how he had been completely besotted by a baby. This girl presented her own set of problems that worried Arthur, but at the moment he had more pressing concerns to consider.

“My uncle is scheduled to return tomorrow, Leon, and I don’t know how he will react to Merlin having magic. Probably not well,” Arthur added, thinking about all the loss Agravaine had suffered at the hands of sorcerers. That was one of the main reasons Arthur had a problem with the theory that his uncle could be working with Morgana—it just didn’t make sense.

Arthur removed his gloves and set them atop his cape. Another day of patrols had yielded three bandits, a wayward young boy who had been separated from his parents on their way to Essetir, and a sighting of a group of what appeared to be Saxons below the ravine. 

They hadn’t caused any problems, so Arthur hadn’t thought it worth going to see what they were up to, but if they were still there the following morning, he had every intention of confronting them. Being a young, inexperienced king who had not so long ago executed another sovereign just to prove a point had taught Arthur that ruling Camelot was a balance between a steady hand and a wielded sword.

“You don’t look well, Sire,” Elyan said as he sat on the bench opposite Arthur, removed his boots, and stretched out his legs.

“I’m fine,” Arthur lied as he looked at Guinevere’s brother, who wasn’t for a second buying his answer. “Or, I guess I should say I’ve been better, but I can’t let my not feeling well keep me from my duties, especially not with Merlin as he is,” and with that being said, Arthur clapped Elyan on the knee, stood, and stretched. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the throne room with Gwaine and the girl he brought to Camelot.”

Arthur had reached the door when he turned back to Elyan. “Would you go see how Merlin is when you’re finished in here? He seems to take to you almost as much as he takes to your sister,” Arthur said, knowing Elyan hadn’t spent much time with Merlin recently and that the knight would never ask outright to go see him.

A short walk later, Arthur stood in the throne room as Gwaine and a girl with blonde hair, who looked to be no more than seventeen or eighteen years of age, stood before him. She looked distraught.

Arthur swallowed before opening his mouth, and willed the sharp retort he wished to make to remain unspoken. He need not scare the poor girl. She wasn’t a knight and she didn’t know that the king of Camelot wanted nothing more than to go see Merlin and then to fall into bed and sleep for hours.

“Sir Gwaine tells me your family were attacked?” Arthur asked the girl Gwaine had called Eira, wishing this weren’t a part of his job as he saw the girl nod and as her chin began to quiver.

“Yes, Sire. We were taken into the woods and held there. We tried escaping this morning when the leader fell asleep, but we weren’t quick enough and my mother, father, brother, and son were all killed.” She looked on the verge of crying, but thus far she was trying to be stoic. Arthur could appreciate such.

“What of your husband?” he asked, curious, especially when a startled look took over her face.

“I, erm- I don’t have a husband, Sire,” she said meekly, immediately looking down at her feet.

“The father of your child resides in your village?”

“Yes, Sire, but he is not a nice person. If I return without his son I will be killed,” and then she did begin to cry.

Arthur sighed. He wasn’t interested in harbouring a woman whose lover would no doubt come to find her. He looked at Gwaine, who was looking like a lovesick puppy as he studied the crying maiden.

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. If he’d been dubious of the situation before, he was certain now that allowing the girl to stay in Camelot wasn’t a good idea. He would have to think overnight about how to deal with her long-term.

If she were a _he_ Arthur would have already sent her on her way, but as she most assuredly was not a man, Arthur couldn’t turn her out so near dark. Or, more aptly, he wouldn’t.

“Is there anyone else after you, Eira?”

“No, Sire,” she answered, looking the king straight in the eyes. “I am damaged goods. No one would want me now.”

Arthur sighed, losing his resolve to possibly send the girl away the following morning. He looked over at Gwaine and grimaced before returning his attention to Eira. “There is a baby that needs nursing. If you agree to that, then you may stay in Camelot for the foreseeable future. Don’t make me regret my decision,” he added rather more harshly than he’d intended, but he’d wanted her to know he was serious.

He looked over at Gwaine again and didn’t miss the grin on his face. Arthur rather wished he could slap it off.

Arthur sat up with a start as someone banged on his door. He was dazed and wondered why anyone would require him at such a late hour. He had given orders to the guards that he was not to be disturbed unless there was something wrong with Merlin.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, suddenly very awake and extremely worried.

He jumped out of bed and ran out of his chambers as fast as he could in his attempts to get to Hunith’s chambers across the hall. He spotted the usual guards who stood outside his and Hunith’s doors each night, talking to Elyan.

Arthur thought about stopping and asking what was wrong, but he instead entered the chambers in a panic and looked over to where Merlin’s cot stood. “Is Merlin safe?” he asked hastily, feeling a bit out of sorts when he realised he had opened the door without asking permission to enter. That was an unforgivable offence. “Sorry,” he said, feeling the blush rising to his face. What if Hunith had been in a state of undress? Luckily, for him, she was in her dressing gown.

“He is fine, Sire,” said Elyan, entering the room. “I’ve already checked on him and Hunith. The sentries have spotted activity in the Darkling Woods,” he added as he waved Percival into the room. “Leon is bringing up reinforcements to guard Hunith, Merlin, and the others while we go find out what the commotion is.”

The others? Arthur guessed that Guinevere would probably be on her way to stay with them. The thought made him feel immeasurably better.

He then spotted a pallet next to Merlin’s cot. The girl Gwaine had brought into Camelot appeared frightened as she sat on it and looked at him with wide eyes. Arthur didn’t blame her. He started to walk over to Merlin, but a cleared throat from behind changed his mind. He instead turned to Hunith and told her he would return before he left to go see what was happening.

He made his way back to his chambers, put on his tunic that he’d discarded on the floor hours earlier, and found his breeches. “Have you alerted the other knights?” Arthur asked Elyan as he took a deep breath and tried to think clearly as he dressed.

“They are ready to go,” Elyan replied as he helped Arthur get into his armour. “Merlin will be fine, Sire,” he added a few seconds later when Arthur stared at his door and closed his eyes.

Arthur nodded as he retrieved his sword, appreciating Elyan’s words. “He’d better be. Anything less is unacceptable. You know what we’ve discussed and you know the plan, Elyan. Put it into action immediately. I need to go tell Hunith what is going on, but I’ll be there as soon as I leave here.” Arthur scrubbed his face with his hands and blinked a few times.

He had been sleeping deeply, probably deeper than he had in weeks.

After Elyan left, Arthur grabbed everything he would need, then returned to Hunith’s room, trying to figure out what to say; he certainly didn’t wish to frighten her.

“Do not let Merlin out of your sight,” he said as soon as the door was opened, this time after he had knocked. He looked over at Merlin’s cot and was surprised to see Eira sitting in a chair, nursing. Arthur quickly turned away. “Once Guinevere gets here, bolt the door shut, and no matter who comes to the door, Hunith, do not open it. Either Leon or I will come alert you when the threat has passed.”

Arthur swallowed, feeling about as unsure of himself as he had when his father had been unable to rule and Arthur had committed Camelot’s army to a siege.

“We’ll be fine, Arthur. Go,” Hunith said softly, looking at the king with a smile. “He will be safe. I am his mother. If anyone wants him they will have to go through me, and I don’t think you realise the lengths a mother will go to in order to protect her child.”

Arthur reluctantly nodded. He wanted to go see for himself that Merlin was indeed fine, but he couldn’t. Not with Eira nursing him. Instead he closed his eyes again and attempted to calm himself. He felt hands on his face.

“Arthur, you are the king. I trust you and I know you are prepared for whatever you find. Now go. Merlin is in my care. Understand?”

Arthur nodded and opened his eyes, thankful for Merlin’s mother. He turned and forced himself to leave.

He made his way to the edge of the forest where he knew the other knights would be congregated. He could only hope that it wasn’t Morgana who awaited him.

Her past deeds had proved what she was capable of—she had already taken control of Camelot once, after all, but Arthur did not want to have to face her again. He would do whatever needed to be done to stop her, but it would crush him if he had to kill her. Despite everything, she was his sister, if even only half.

Half was enough.

“Arthur, the Saxons have gone, but a parchment was left behind,” Leon said, an ominous look on his face as he handed said parchment to Arthur, who was looking at the ground where a small fire was burning, no doubt left behind by the hastily fleeing soldiers. Leon quickly doused it.

Arthur took the parchment into his trembling hands and looked down. There was only one word on it: _Merlin._

He turned and ran, and didn’t stop until he was at the door to Hunith’s chambers, which was wide open. He entered, knowing that no one would be inside.

Time and everything else for Arthur stopped. 

He’d once heard his father telling Agravaine that his world had ceased to rotate when Ygraine died. It had made an impression on the young prince, but it wasn’t until this very moment that Arthur truly understood the heartache he had heard in his father’s voice.

He shook his head, not quite believing the events that were unfolding, and turned around, about to leave, when Percival called out to him.

“You will want to see this, Sire.” 

Arthur wiped at his eyes, ran down the stairs, and grabbed the parchment. “I will rip apart whomever took him; they’ll wish they’d never been born.” He opened it, read it, and looked at Percival, than at Elyan, who joined them. “They have Merlin, Guinevere, Hunith, and Eira,” he said, feeling faint.

Percival, shoulders set, looked as if he were prepared to go fight the whole of the world to get them back. “Who has them?”

“It doesn’t say, but they will kill them all if we do not meet them at Camlann tomorrow at sunset.”

Gwaine found Arthur in the armoury, his head in his hands. After he removed his armour, the knight sat down across from Arthur. “Elyan said you wanted to see me,” he said, not an ounce of arrogance to be heard, which was not at all normal for the usually outspoken and overly confident knight.

Arthur removed his gloves and picked up the parchment beside him. He handed it to Gwaine without looking at him and continued to stare into space, not saying a word.

He knew there was every possibility that Eira had not been the catalyst for the kidnapping of Merlin and the others, but there was also every possibility that it had been her, and Arthur knew in his gut that it was the girl who had set what was now happening in motion. And as if that weren’t bad enough, he had a sinking feeling that he knew who was behind it all, and Morgana wasn’t whom he was thinking of.

Gwaine began reading the words at the top of the page in little more than a whisper. “You should not have taken what is not yours. Now you will find out how it feels to lose something that means everything to you, Arthur Pendragon.”

Gwaine read it once more, this time aloud, and closed his eyes, the hand holding the parchment shaking. He obviously knew what the words meant, or at least what Arthur thought they meant. He looked up at Arthur, who was now glaring daggers. “We’ll get them back, Arthur,” he said, swallowing.

“You better be right, Gwaine, because if not, I don’t ever want to see your face or body in Camelot again.”

Arthur, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, Elyan, and a handful of other knights made their way into Camlann and immediately spotted the small delegation, which included Agravaine.

Arthur felt his body begin to shake uncontrollably.

It was not much of a surprise to see that Agravaine was involved, but it was a dagger to Arthur’s heart, nonetheless. Hadn’t he accused his uncle of being the traitor after Merlin had been injured and taken? What a fool Arthur had been to believe Agravaine when he’d said he would never betray his sister’s son.

And hadn’t Merlin said Agravaine was lying when he’d said Gaius had fled Camelot because he was the traitor?

If only Arthur had listened to his own intuition and to Merlin back then, he wouldn’t be looking at the harrowing sight of his uncle now holding Merlin, a knife inches away from his throat. 

Arthur shook his head as his trembling hand absentmindedly moved to Merlin’s toy dragon he had safely ensconced beneath his chainmail. “No.”

When they were near enough to see the eyes of those on the opposite side, Arthur dismounted his horse and handed the reins to Percival. “Don’t do anything until I give the signal,” he said in little more than a whisper as he looked up at Agravaine, all the hatred he had within him roiling just beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed.

“Uncle,” he said, his voice dripping with fury, his hands trembling in terror as he longed to reach for his sword.

“Nephew,” Agravaine replied silkily, his eyes crinkled, his mouth turned upward in a mockery of a smile. “Thank you for doing as asked.”

“We are here. Hand them over,” Arthur said authoritatively, not expecting his directive to be followed, but he had to make the demand, nonetheless.

Guinevere and Hunith were roughly pushed forward and they stumbled over to where Arthur’s knights stood.

“You don’t get Eira,” Agravaine said testily, his former smile now a scowl. “She doesn’t belong to you, and sorry, Sire, but neither do you get Merlin. I am afraid he is too much of a liability as long as he lives. I know you are foolish enough to not give up on him, therefore he must die,” Agravaine added, his voice having morphed from anger to calm, as if he threatened to kill innocent toddlers on a daily basis.

“No, you can’t kill him, Agravaine,” Arthur said, trying with everything he had not to let his emotions get the better of him.

What was he going to do? There was not a thing to do, really. One move from him or his knights and that knife in Agravaine’s left hand would be in Merlin. But he had to do something.

Arthur let out a sob.

“Please don’t,” he said, not caring that he was begging. “Please, Uncle.” His voice broke. He couldn’t lose Merlin.

The thought of the older Merlin being lost to Arthur had been and was a constant sore that festered and threatened to explode at any moment, but the idea of anything bad happening to baby Merlin sent Arthur into a fear he had never known before. He wouldn’t be able to go on if anything happened to this little baby that was depending on the king of Camelot to save him.

“Sorry, Arthur. It is time you learnt that there are rules,” and with that said, Agravaine raised his left hand ever so slightly before looking at Arthur and grinning. He lowered his arm and the knife got closer and closer.

Arthur couldn’t breathe. He felt the tears falling freely. He couldn’t move. He just repeated _no_ in his mind, over and over.

Suddenly a loud scream rent the air and Arthur felt something heavy, sharp and blunt—a quarrel, he feared, hitting him, taking his breath away. He immediately fell to the ground in agonizing pain and saw that yes, a bolt was embedded within his armour.

Without thought he removed it and grimaced at the intense pain that lanced through his body once it was out. He knew he’d been wounded badly, but he ignored the pain as best he could and assessed the situation around him. His knights would no doubt soon be swarming him to get him back to Camelot.

Or, perhaps not.

He could see that there were men surrounding them, each pointing a cross-bow in his direction. Arthur looked around and could see the panicked looks his knights were giving him, but for the moment there was little anyone could do.

Amidst the temporary silence that had befallen the clearing they all stood in, Merlin began to cry and it was one of the most haunting sounds Arthur had ever heard. He looked over to where Agravaine had been holding Merlin and saw his uncle, motionless, on the ground. Morgana was standing over his body, holding Merlin and looking at Arthur, a blank expression on her face.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but his sister raised a hand and shook her head as she turned and looked to her right, where a curly-headed boy with piercing blue eyes was sitting in a large tree, a crossbow at his side. Arthur shook his head and sighed. 

Mordred.

“Well done, Mordred,” said Morgana, her voice soft as silk. “I know you didn’t want to kill my brother, but it had to be done. You will come to understand why in time. For your actions, you will be knighted,” she added, a smug smirk on her face as she looked over at Arthur again.

“Killing Merlin was never part of my plan, dear brother. Agravaine had other plans, but I couldn’t allow him to see them through. You see, I wanted you. I never wanted Merlin. Why would I want to kill someone who has magic as I do?” she said, giving Arthur a reproachful look, so very reminiscent of all the previous looks that she had directed at him over the years.

“Give him back, Morgana,” Arthur said menacingly, focusing on Morgana and Merlin, not on his pain, nor on Mordred, whom he could see out of his peripheral vision.

The boy had grown, but Arthur thought that he was still little more than an older boy who wanted to play with the men. Arthur wondered just how Morgana had managed to get the boy to join her, but it really didn’t matter, did it?

“Merlin can be of great use to me, Arthur dear. What can he do for you? Oh, yes, I do know what you _want_ him to do for you, but don’t you think him using his magic to help me would be a better use of his talents than sharing your bed and satisfying your needs on a nightly basis? And before long it won’t matter, will it? You will no longer be here to enjoy his pleasures. Mordred saw to that.” She sneered, looking nothing like the sweet young girl that she had once been.

How dare she say that. Arthur made to get up but stopped when he heard Leon yelling _no_. Arthur fumed. What was Leon playing at? He’d best be planning something, Arthur thought as he remained where he was on the ground. He could only hope that he was not going to die and leave Merlin vulnerable.

His heart was pounding and his wound was throbbing as blood soaked his chainmail and surrounding armour. He looked around him and noticed that somehow the knights had surrounded Morgana and the others.

Perhaps Leon did have a plan.

Morgana set Merlin down on the ground and said a few words over him before she looked at Arthur. “Enjoy your last few moments, brother dear. I shall take good care of Camelot when I become queen,” she said as she laughed, then she and Mordred disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the other soldiers retreated.

It took Arthur a few seconds to register what had happened, but when his mind caught up with his eyes, he slowly got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest, and ran to a now screaming Merlin. Arthur picked him up and cradled him to his chest, thankful that Merlin hadn’t been hurt.

“Sire,” Percival called out as he ran up to him and took Merlin. “Do not move. You are hurt.”

Arthur looked down at his chest and saw the substantial amount of blood that continued to pour out. A fissure of fear ran through him.

Morgana had thought Mordred mortally wounded him, and Arthur panicked, hoping that wasn’t the case, but he knew what quarrels could do and why they were made the way they were.

He carefully brought a shaking hand to his chest and felt around to see where the damage had been done. That he was still conscious was indeed good, but that didn’t mean anything. Slow deaths were just as final as immediate deaths, weren’t they?

After a few seconds, Arthur let out a laugh and looked around, breathing a huge sigh of relief. He was injured—there was no doubt about that—but Merlin’s cloth dragon had served to act as a shield of sorts. The quarrel had penetrated Arthur’s armour and chainmail, and had done enough damage to create rather substantial blood loss, but not enough to pierce his heart or any other major organs.

Merlin had saved Arthur’s life.

After a night of no sleep and endless worry, a restless and irritable Arthur rubbed his eyes as he entered Hunith’s chambers. He hoped Hunith and Merlin had fared better and had been able to rest.

Without a word, Hunith, with Merlin in her arms, walked over to Arthur and handed him her son. “You don’t look so good, Arthur. I am guessing you have yet to go see Gaius about your chest wound,” she said admonishingly. “It could become infected. If anything happened to you, where would that leave Merlin, I ask you?” she said, matter-of-factly, her arms now crossed, doing her best Gaius impression.

Arthur heard every word Hunith said and knew she spoke the truth, but once Merlin was in his arms, everything else evaporated into the background and there was only the two of them.

For some time, Arthur held Merlin to him, saying nothing as he allowed his breathing to return to normal. He had never been as frightened as he was when he thought Agravaine was about to kill Merlin, and even after many hours had elapsed between then and now, the fear hadn’t abated.

“What happened, Hunith? How did someone gain entrance to your chambers?” Arthur asked as he finally had a seat at the table. He was looking over at Hunith seriously, though he couldn’t help but grin when Merlin, now seated in his lap, started playing with a small boat that had been left on the table.

Inevitably, just as Arthur knew he would, Merlin attempted to put it in his mouth. Arthur set the boat out of reach and accepted the small cup Hunith handed him, but he stared at it oddly.

“He’s old enough to start drinking from a cup, Arthur. Try it. Put it to his mouth and watch; he’ll know what to do,” Hunith said kindly.

Arthur wanted to protest, but he needed answers to questions, thus he turned Merlin so that he faced him and held the cup to his small mouth.

“Eira held a knife to Merlin’s throat and told me and Gwen to follow her or else she would kill my son,” Hunith replied, her voice trembling.

So Arthur hadn’t been wrong to think it was the girl Gwaine had brought to Camelot. He thought Gwaine would do well to stay clear of him for the immediate future because Arthur couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. “Did she say anything else? Such as what her motive was?” he asked as he fought with Merlin for control of the cup.

When Merlin finished drinking his water within, Arthur pried the cup out of his hands and handed it to Hunith, who walked over to another table and set it down before looking back at Arthur.

“She told me Agravaine was the one who had taken her and her family and that he told her they would die unless she did as she was told.” Hunith was near tears. “I was so afraid, Arthur.”

Yes, as had been Arthur. He returned his attention to Merlin, who was hopefully oblivious to all that had taken place. He seemed very much as he had every other day since he’d been turned into a baby: happy and content.

Without a care in the world.

Arthur hugged Merlin to him and smiled when he realised Merlin was playing with his ring.

“Atr wng,” Merlin said, looking up towards Arthur with a huge smile as he gurgled, slobber covering his chin.

It was one of those moments Arthur was sure he’d never forget, but he wished to freeze it, nonetheless. He remembered Leon’s mother tucking them into bed at night and going on about how time went by much too quickly.

Leon and Arthur had wiped off the kisses they’d received before bed with a grimace, but even then Arthur had known how lucky his best friend was to have a mother. Arthur would have and still would give just about anything to know that love.

Now Arthur had a new appreciation for all those nights.

When he heard the door behind him opening, he looked over his shoulder and smiled when Guinevere entered, a basket of clothes in her arms.

Half an hour later, after Arthur fed Merlin with a bottle from the kitchens—he’d begged Hunith to allow him to feed him one last time—Arthur reluctantly left him in Hunith and Guinevere’s care.

Hunith’s constant worrying over him, and Gaius’s words of the previous night had him walking towards the physician’s chambers to get checked out.

He was no longer in any significant pain, but Hunith had been correct that infection could set in, and Arthur couldn’t let that happen, so here he was. But after he got checked out he planned to ask Gaius a few questions that had been bothering him.

Morgana had whispered something before she disappeared, and it had looked as if she’d directed her words at Merlin. Without knowing what she’d said, Arthur knew there was nothing anyone could do, but Gaius was his best and perhaps only hope, and for as long as Arthur had known him, the court physician had more oft than not been able to solve any problem presented to him.

Once Arthur’s wound was cleaned (Gaius had told him that had it not been for Merlin’s cloth dragon covering his heart he would have certainly been fatally wounded) and he was given a clean bill of health and told to take it easy for the next several days, Gaius told him that if anything bad had been done to Merlin, it would most likely manifest itself sooner rather than later.

“If it wasn’t Morgana whom reverted Merlin to a baby, Gaius, who could have?” Arthur asked, perplexed. “My uncle doesn’t have magic, so I ask you, who?”

“How do you know it wasn’t Morgana, Sire?” asked Gaius as he closed the text he had been looking at. “Unless you haven’t shared everything she said, she neither confirmed nor denied changing Merlin into a baby.”

True. What if it had been Morgana? But Arthur didn’t think so. “She would have wanted Merlin to help her. What would be the advantage for her reverting him to a baby? She would have had to wait years until his magic would have been of any real use to her.”

Gaius should have been able to work that out for himself. Arthur opened his mouth to say as much when he realised Gaius was looking at him, an eyebrow raised.

Arthur didn’t understand, but then, as if a lightning bolt had struck him, he did, and he once again had to wonder why he ever doubted Gaius. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that I _knew_ , Arthur, but, yes, I had surmised that Morgana had most likely not been responsible for Merlin’s predicament. Having magic, she could have returned him to an adult once she'd got him in her possession, so why would she have not taken him with her? Here, take a look at the text Geoffrey brought me yesterday morning,” Gaius said as he opened the large tome in front of him and pointed to the text. He motioned Arthur to come look at it. 

Arthur stood over Gaius’s left shoulder and began reading as the physician continued talking.

“Geoffrey’s brother, Tomas, came to visit the other day and when he was told about what we were facing with Merlin, he said he thought he recalled reading something about a similar case in an old tome. He and Geoffrey went to the library, searched the archives, and finally found what they were looking for. I think you’ll be interested to read what it has to say.”

Arthur continued reading the words before him, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. When he finished, he shook his head. “You don’t think Merlin did this to himself, do you?” he asked incredulously as he looked up.

Gaius turned to look at Arthur, and his answer was obvious.

“You can’t be serious, Gaius. How?”

Gaius pointed down to the open book. “You read the parchment, Sire. It’s all very clear,” he said before letting out a sigh. “All very clear.”

“But that’s ridiculous. Merlin wouldn’t want to do that!” Arthur protested, thinking Gaius had gone round the twist.

“Not everything has to have intent behind it, Sire.”

No. Arthur wouldn’t believe it. He crossed his arms and glared. His Merlin of old would no doubt say he was pouting, and perhaps he was, but Arthur thought that what Gaius was saying was ridiculous. He continued to stare at the physician as if doing so would make him recant his accusations.

“Do you remember the old man who attempted to cure your father?” Gaius asked Arthur hesitantly.

“Erm, yes?” said Arthur, not knowing what Gaius was getting at, but then another of those pesky lightning bolts hit and the painful memories of his father’s untimely passing washed over him. “That was Merlin,” he said, his voice unbelieving. Not Merlin. It couldn’t have been him. But after the events of the past few weeks, Arthur knew that there wasn’t much he wouldn’t believe from here on out.

“It was, but he didn’t cause the death of your father, Arthur. Merlin did everything in his power to save the king. It was Morgana who killed your father with a spell she put on a necklace. My point in sharing what I have is that Merlin turned himself into an older person. I can assure you that he also has it within him to do the opposite.”

When Arthur opened his eyes the following morning, he felt that something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was just a feeling in the air, as if something big were about to happen.

He put his feet on the floor and looked over to the cot where he had placed Merlin less than four hours earlier.

He froze.

Merlin was no longer a baby.

He was huddled beside the cot, curled into a small ball, the blanket that had formerly covered baby Merlin now covering a small part of adult Merlin’s lower body.

“Merlin?”


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin heard someone calling his name. He slowly opened his eyes and panicked. Everything was blurry; it wasn’t completely different from whenever he got those horrid headaches where his eyes blurred and the only thing that helped to ease the pain were herbs and complete darkness, but he currently felt no pain. 

There was something very wrong. Why couldn’t he see?

He lifted his head off the floor (why was he on the floor?) and looked around him. He saw big blobs and muted colours, but it all ran into one another and gave him absolutely nothing to go on.

And he was freezing. He reached down and touched his body, horrified to realise he was naked. He felt something on his chest and grabbed at it with his hands. He put it close to his face and thought it resembled a tunic—a very small tunic.

He then reached his hand out and felt that something was covering his privates. Well, that was something. He was still freezing, however.

“Merlin?” that familiar voice called out again from somewhere nearby.

“Arthur?” Merlin said tentatively, wondering what he would be doing naked in Arthur’s room.

Yes, on occasion, Merlin was known to be a bit reckless with the mead in _The Rising Sun_ , but he hadn’t done that in a while, and even if he had, how had he ended up at Arthur’s? There was only one scenario Merlin had ever had regarding that, and it hadn’t included him waking up on the floor.

“You’re you again!” Arthur said, his voice sounding nothing like it usually did, but it was getting louder, so Merlin assumed Arthur was getting closer to him.

Merlin again panicked. “What am I doing in here?” he asked, a million thoughts running through his mind. Had Morgana or Agravaine done something to him? He had been worried that Agravaine would discover his secret and tell Morgana. Had that happened? That was the only explanation. Merlin hadn’t felt this disoriented since…

He froze as bits and pieces of memories began to resurface.

He’d felt his magic fluctuating as he’d returned from sending Lancelot off.

He’d been exhausted.

Gaius had been cross with him about not being kind to his eyes.

Merlin had wanted it all to stop.

He had gone outside to prepare for Arthur’s morning training.

He had returned to his chambers.

He had gone to open the window to let some air in.

And that was the last thing he remembered until…

“I’m an idiot,” Merlin said as he banged his head against the hard floor and closed his eyes.

“No you’re not,” Arthur said as he knelt beside Merlin.

“Yes, I am, Arthur. More than you know,” Merlin said, sighing, not quite knowing what to do or say next.

“Do you remember anyth—”

“Get Gaius,” Merlin interrupted.

“I will, but fir—“

“Get Gaius, Arthur. Please,” Merlin begged, needing to escape and flee to his own chambers. The memories of the past few weeks were returning in full and he couldn’t take them. He wanted them to stop.

Merlin again curled in on himself and scrunched his eyes shut. He felt his breathing speeding up and he felt the tears as they threatened to fall, but when he felt a cover placed atop him, it made everything too real and he let out a sob. He felt hands adjusting the blanket around him, then as they carded through his hair. Merlin wanted to lean closer and never leave.

Arthur had taken such good care of him. “Thank you,” Merlin said in a meek voice as he heard Arthur stand and walk across the room. It sounded like he was opening his wardrobe. Then he shut it. Merlin guessed he was getting dressed.

The sounds were so very clear. Clearer and louder than Merlin had ever heard them before.

Then Arthur was back, sitting beside him. Merlin could hear his breathing. It was steady and served to calm him, so much so that he could feel himself drifting off. He was so very tired.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7768750?view_full_work=true)

Several minutes later the door to Arthur’s chambers opened. People were talking, much too loudly for Merlin's liking, and then he felt himself being lifted into a pair of arms—probably Percival’s.

Merlin struggled. “I can walk; I’m not completely helpless.” He was whinging, but he didn't care.

Someone, probably Arthur, let out a chuckle.

“Yes, well, you have been a baby for more than two fortnights, being held most of the time, and crawling occasionally. Forgive us if we don’t think your legs are up to supporting you at the moment,” Arthur said, not too far away.

Merlin wisely chose not to say anything else.

Only when he was safely within his bed, the blankets pulled up to cover and warm him, did Merlin say anything else, but not before he turned away from everyone who was no doubt staring at him. “Everyone other than Gaius needs to leave.” Merlin knew Arthur would protest. “Yes, even you, Arthur. I’ll want to talk to you, but not now.”

He heard his door shutting soon after and then felt as Gaius sat on the edge of his bed. Merlin had so many questions, but he knew Gaius had more. “Morgana didn’t do this to me. I did it to myself. Leave it to me to do something so stupid,” Merlin said, disgusted with himself.

“I’m not going to disagree with you, Merlin, but it’s done and now you are back to being an adult. Are you able t—“

“To see? No,” Merlin said dejectedly, shaking his head, the reality of his situation very nearly too much for him to deal with. “My magic is gone, or at least it’s too weak for me to see. Everything’s a blur,” he said, feeling miserable. How was he to do anything without being able to see? He was about to ask that very question when there was a knock on his door. “Go away,” he said, irritated that Arthur couldn’t do as asked.

“It’s your mother, Merlin.”

And that was that. Merlin wasn’t about to tell her to go away. “Come in,” he said. “Gaius, could you give us a moment?”

When he felt a gentle hand moving the fringe from his forehead, Merlin slowly turned over so he faced his mother before he opened his eyes. “I can’t see.” And Merlin had never wanted to see his mother as much as he did at that moment. He could see her body, and he knew she was wearing black and white, but it was nothing more than a blurry blob and it frustrated him to no end. “I’m useless.”

His mother’s hand found his and she squeezed it slightly before she leant down and kissed his forehead. “You have never been nor will you ever be useless, Merlin. I have every confidence that your magic will return and that you will once again be charming everyone in no time.”

That was what Merlin hoped, but what if it didn’t happen that way? What if he had to live the remainder of his life unable to see like he had before?

Magic had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember, and it had served him well in many ways, but the only aspect of magic Merlin had ever truly cared about was that it had allowed him to see.

He’d been born with eyes that didn’t work correctly, and by some miracle he’d got magic, which had allowed him to see. It had also made life for his mother so much easier, because she had no longer had to do most everything for him.

Now it was gone and Merlin feared it would never come back.

“Thank you for coming to help Arthur with me, Mum. I know how busy you are in Ealdor. The last thing you needed was for your idiotic son to turn himself into a baby.”

“First of all,” Hunith said, her voice stern, “do not let me hear you use that word again, Merlin. You are not an idiot. I think that word is horrible. Secondly, you must know that there is nothing in this world more important to me than you. I would give up everything for you, so don’t you say you’re sorry that I had to come. I have enjoyed every second of my time with you.”

Merlin nodded and let out a derisive laugh. “I can’t believe Arthur had to care for me as a baby. That’s, erm, really surreal, Mum,” and even as he couldn’t see his mother’s reaction, he could imagine she was giving him a small grin. She, of course, knew of his feelings for the king of Camelot.

“I’ve always worried so very much about your feelings for him, thinking they would go nowhere and that you would end up hurt, Merlin, but after watching Arthur with you over the past several weeks, I don’t have a doubt in my mind that he loves you every bit as much as you love him,” she said, warmth in her voice.

“Yeah, well, maybe, Mum, but I was a baby; Arthur had no choice but to care for me unless he wanted Agravaine to get me. That’s hardly reason to say he loves me. And before you say it, maybe he did and does, but he doesn’t have time to bother with me. You see me now, Mum. I can see that you are a person, but you could be anyone. I can’t do my job in such a state. I am useless. Arthur won’t want the burden of me and I wouldn’t ask him to take me on,” Merlin said as he looked towards the window and wished he could see the small houses with the thatched roofs. He remembered watching the chimneys with the billowing smoke that first night in Camelot. It had seemed so magical.

“You’re wrong, Merlin. I don’t know how to prove it to you, but I’ll find a way. And don’t give up hope that your magic will return, love,” his mother said, kissing him on the cheek. “You should try to get some sleep. If you need anything I’ll be visiting with Gaius.”

“Mum?“ Merlin called out, and he couldn’t believe how meek he sounded. He was pathetic.

“Yes?” she said, her face close enough for him to see her eyes.

“Will you please take me home to Ealdor?”

“No.”

“You and Guinevere certainly seem to be getting closer,” Arthur said as he removed his gloves and threw them onto the bench, turning just enough so he could see Leon’s reaction. He didn’t miss the sudden look of apprehension that flitted across the other man’s face when he noticed he was being observed. “It’s fine,” Arthur said, needing Leon to understand that he really was alright with one of his best friends and Guinevere potentially becoming more than friends. “You would be my choice if I had to choose someone for her to be with,” Arthur said, somewhat uncomfortable, but he meant every word.

He was a bit surprised he’d said such aloud, but Merlin had taught him that time was precious and that you shouldn’t put off those things you wished to do. 

“Thanks, Arthur,” Leon said, looking somewhat shocked, but also extremely relieved. “I can’t tell you how much it means coming from you. We’ve been through quite a bit, you and I,” he said.

Arthur grinned as he thought of just how much the two of them had been through together. It had all started for them when one of Leon’s mother's servants had been Arthur’s nursemaid after his mother died. And as they grew up, Leon and Arthur had been inseparable.

If anyone else was going to win the heart of Guinevere, Arthur wished it to be Leon, and by the looks of it, Leon had needed his best friend’s approval. Arthur understood. “Just make her happy. She deserves it, and so do you.”

His armour removed, Arthur stood and looked towards the stables. He thought he might go see Merlin’s horse when he had some free time; it had been a while since he’d seen her and he missed her quirky habits, almost as much as he missed those of Merlin.

“How is Merlin?” Leon asked as he made his way to the door.

“I wouldn’t know,” Arthur replied sullenly. “I’m told he is fine, that he needs time, and that he is resting, but it has been _two days_ , Leon. He refuses to see me. Hunith assures me that I just need to give him time, but I don’t think time is going to be enough for him. I just don’t understand. He knows, Leon. _He knows_. It’s killing me to not be able to see him,” Arthur said, knowing he was whinging.

When Leon returned to the bench and sat down, and asked Arthur to do the same, Arthur did, knowing he was about to be gifted with wise words. Leon had never been much for talking, but whenever he opened his mouth it was almost always to say something important.

Arthur listened as Leon told him that, according to Guinevere, Merlin felt like he was a burden to everyone, that he would be nothing more than dead weight to the king.

Arthur hadn’t known; he probably should have, but as had been proven repeatedly, he was not the most observant of people. “I didn’t know, Leon,” and Arthur felt as if he’d just lost the biggest tourney of his life. It seemed so obvious now. Of course Merlin would push him away.

“Arthur, don’t take what I am about to say the wrong way,” Leon said, taking a rather deep breath and shaking his head, “but how could you not know? You, more than anyone, should know how Merlin is and that he lives to help others and never thinks about himself. Now that others have to help him, he is not taking it well. He can’t see to do his work, Arthur. He can’t do what he once did for you. How do you think that makes him feel? Of course he would withdraw from others, most especially you.”

Arthur was out the door and across the courtyard in less than a minute. How could he not have realised? How could he have been so stupid? He saw Tyr walking towards him, no doubt about to ask about Merlin. Arthur felt badly for it, but he walked past the stable boy, thinking that Merlin would berate him for such and remind him that _it didn’t expend much energy at all to be nice to people and that Arthur should try it once in a while._

The thought of what Merlin had told him when Arthur asked why Merlin seemed to go out of his way to talk to the stable boy gave Arthur pause and had him thinking he would make a special trip to see Tyr after he talked to Merlin.

Before he realised it, Arthur was knocking on Gaius’s door. He hoped the physician wasn’t out helping a patient, and when the door opened he sighed in relief. “Gaius. I need to see Merlin,” Arthur said, prepared for the reply everyone got, and he wasn’t disappointed. He merely smirked.

“Yes, well, don’t you think it’s time we stopped coddling Merlin? I don’t know about you, but I refuse to allow him to continue his spiral into melancholia. I have too much to lose,” and after he said it, Arthur waited, not sure he should have said all of that. “I’m sorry, Gaius,” he started, but closed his mouth when Gaius stepped aside and motioned for Arthur to enter.

“You might be the only one to get through to him, Sire,” Gaius said, closing the door behind them. “Hunith just left, and Gwen was here earlier, but other than those two—and me, because I told him that he wasn’t staying here if he didn’t allow me to examine him—he won’t see anyone else.”

“Not even Gwaine?” Arthur asked, surprised and worried. If Merlin refused to see Gwaine, that was… that was bad. Very bad.

“Not even Gwaine, Arthur. I think Merlin doesn’t want Gwaine to see him. I think you know why.”

Arthur did know why. Merlin’s eyes—they didn’t look at you the way they once did, the way other people’s eyes did. They looked around you, maybe to your left or to your right, and many times they were looking in different directions. Hunith had told Arthur to prepare him, but as of yet he hadn’t seen them for himself.

“I don’t care, Gaius, and neither would Gwaine. Gwaine is his best friend. Merlin needs his friends now more than ever. I don’t understand why he is pushing us away.”

“And you never will, Sire, or at least I pray you never will,” Gaius amended, putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You should go in. As I said, Hunith just left, so Merlin shouldn’t have gone to sleep yet, but as it seems all he does is sleep these days, you better hurry,” Gaius added, looking sad.

Seconds later, as Arthur found himself at the door to Merlin’s chambers, he thought he should probably announce his presence, but he didn’t want to be told to go and then have to go against Merlin’s wishes. He took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Go away, Arthur,” Merlin said.

“And how did you know it was me?” Arthur asked, smirking.

“Besides my mother and Gwen, who have already been here within the hour, you’re the only one Gaius would allow in here,” Merlin said, his voice emotionless.

Taking a chance, Arthur walked over to Merlin’s bed and sat on the edge, looking at Merlin’s back, and when Merlin said nothing, Arthur sighed. “Do you think me the type of person to just throw you to the side and be done with you because you can’t see well?” Arthur said, his voice getting louder with each word. “Do you think I am that callous? Merlin, I-I—”

“Oh please, Arthur, don’t say it. Do you know that I remember everything that happened when I was a baby? How you took care of me? How you worried about me? How you were protective of me?”

Arthur had had enough of talking to Merlin’s back. He stood, walked to the other side of the bed so he could see Merlin, whose eyes were squeezed shut, and knelt before him. “So you remember that. Do you also remember me telling your mother that I loved you and that I would always fight for you? Do you remember that, Merlin?” Arthur asked, angry and hurt.

“’Course I do, and don’t think I don’t feel the same, but none of that matters anymore. You’re the king of Camelot. Whatever would you do with me? Would you just have me hidden away in your chambers while you went about your work?” Merlin spat.

Arthur threw up his hands. “And here I thought it was only your eyes that made you prone to clumsiness. Obviously your mind is addled as well. Grow up, Merlin,” he said as he put his face right next to Merlin’s, hoping the other would open his eyes.

Instead, Merlin flinched and turned over. “Go away, Arthur,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled up the covers so nothing but a small bit of hair was sticking out.

If Merlin thought that was the end of it, Arthur had news for him. Ever so gently he lifted his hand and nervously touched Merlin’s hair and slowly began carding his fingers through the coarse locks.

“I thought I could come in here and talk some sense into you, Merlin,” Arthur said softly, “but I guess I was wrong. If you want to curl up and become a recluse, then go ahead, but you have so many people who love and care for you. You do know that, don’t you?” Arthur asked, almost begging Merlin to say something.

He didn’t.

Arthur shook his head. Maybe he had said enough and should leave, but he knew he might not have another chance to talk to Merlin. He wasn’t going to leave anything unsaid.

“I have denied my feelings for you for far too long, Merlin, but do you know why I stopped doing that? It was Gwen. _Gwen_! And Leon. And your mother. And Gwaine. And most of all it was _you_! Damn it, Merlin, get your head out of your arse and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I know you want things to be as they were before, but they’re _not_.

“Please, Arthur, just go,” said a muffled voice.

“Not until I’ve had my say,” Arthur said defiantly. “You can’t see, Merlin. You need help! Why can’t you accept that? Why can’t you accept that I would do anything for you? If I thought it would help I’d go hunt down Morgana and have her talk some sense into you. Maybe since she has magic, she could make you see that you are being a clotpole. Yes, Merlin, a clotpole!”

When there was no other response, a frustrated and desolate Arthur hastily placed a kiss on Merlin’s head before standing and walking out of the room. He briefly considered slamming the door, but thought better of it. What good would that do?

Gaius asked him what had happened, but Arthur couldn’t respond, his emotions so very near the surface. He left and ran across the courtyard, not stopping until he was in the armoury.

He put on his practice gear and went outside to take his frustrations out on the dummy, and saw Percival, who must have been training, looking at him worriedly. “Don’t,” was all Arthur could manage to say. He was so tired of all the advice.

“Want to spar with me? That dummy isn’t going to give you a fair fight,” Percival said, a slight grin on his face as he walked over, put down the mace, and retrieved his sword.

For the next hour Arthur took out his frustrations on Percival, but to be fair, Percival was up to the task and gave as good as he got. Unfortunately, no amount of sparring was going to be enough to calm Arthur’s nerves. No one had ever or would ever get to him like Merlin.

Deciding Percival deserved a break, Arthur raised his hand and nodded. “Enough.” As Percival passed him on his way to the armoury, he gave Arthur’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Give it time, Sire,” he said as he began walking away.

Arthur didn’t think he had time. “Percival, didn’t you tell me Gwaine told you that he knew one of Morgana’s hideouts?”

“Yes,” Percival replied quickly as he turned to look at Arthur, a grin on his face. He had to know that Arthur was going after her.

Percival had never known the Lady Morgana, the sweet ward of Uther Pendragon; he’d only known Morgana, the ruthless witch. He had to relish the idea of going after her. Any of the knights would.

“Sorry to disappoint, Percival, but I’m not after her blood, at least not at the moment,” Arthur said seriously, but there was a part of him that wished he could indeed be out for Morgana’s blood.

Gaius had said Morgana killed their father. Had she? Arthur didn’t want to believe that she could have done, but all he need do to know the probable answer to that was recall when Morgana had taken the crown for a brief time and how she had treated their father during that period.

Arthur forced the thought out of his head; he had no time for such at the moment. One day he would find out the truth, but not this day, for on this day he had more urgent questions to ask his sister, and Percival was just the person he needed with him when he did.

“I doubt she’ll want to listen to what I have to say, Percival, but regardless, I’m ready to talk. Want to come with?”

Gwaine, Percival, and Arthur set off for a cave that had iron ore in its mud. Arthur wasn’t sure he had made a wise decision in going to talk to Morgana, but he was desperate.

Other than Guinevere, the one person Merlin had always respected in those early years was Morgana. Of course all of that had disappeared when Morgana decided to go against everyone in Camelot, but Morgana and Merlin still had one thing in common—they had magic, and Arthur was holding onto hope that she was the answer to Merlin’s problems.

It would be difficult asking for her help and preventing Gwaine from running a sword through her—Morgana had put Merlin’s life in danger and it could have all ended very badly for him—but Arthur was willing to swallow his pride and keep his building rage for his sister under control for the foreseeable future if Morgana could help Merlin.

He just hoped the element of surprise helped to ensure he would not be killed. Yes, he knew how reckless he was being, but he didn’t much care. If he couldn’t have Merlin by his side to help him, nothing else mattered.

Sometime later, Arthur heard people talking and motioned for the others to be quiet, but in the next second, he saw Morgana emerge from behind a copse of trees and he knew the exact moment she spotted him. The look on her face was priceless.

Arthur almost laughed. “Surprise, Morgana. Looks like your minion is not as good a shot as you thought.”

Morgana looked crestfallen. Arthur wanted to laugh but he dared not. She opened and closed her mouth several times, most assuredly shaken at seeing her brother very much alive.

He tried to form his thoughts into a coherent sentence before uttering a word, but that wasn’t so easy. He needed to be careful. What if Morgana had people hidden in the trees? They could attack at any second. Mordred had proved with his stealth how well the art of surprise worked. Arthur looked around, wondering where Mordred was.

“I daresay there will be other opportunities,” she said, sulkily, looking behind her, no doubt looking for her minion. “What do you want?” she then asked, venom in each word as if her words alone could kill.

Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure how to approach such a delicate and touchy subject.

“Arthur wants you to help Merlin,” Gwaine said, shrugging his shoulders when Arthur looked at him with wide eyes. “He’s an adult again but has apparently lost his magic. You might be the only one who can help him,” Gwaine said seriously, but after he finished he grinned at Arthur, who looked as if he could kill.

If looks could kill, Gwaine would be dead dead dead dead. Arthur wanted to throttle him. And perhaps he still would. Gwaine had already worn out his welcome and Arthur was a breath away from banishing him, but that would have to wait. Arthur returned his attention to Morgana and opened his mouth to speak, but his sister beat him to it.

“You want my help, dear brother? And what, pray tell, do I get for my efforts? I doubt you are inclined to hand over Camelot to me,” she added, wicked laughter the ellipse to that sentence.

“I don’t want to fight you anymore, Morgana. Now that I know Merlin has magic, things are different. I want to make it legal. I don’t want people to fear it as they have.”

That hadn’t been at all what Arthur intended to say, but once it was out he knew it had been the right thing to say. He glanced over at Percival, who had his hand on his sword, but he was nodding, so Arthur guessed that that was his way of approving.

Arthur studied Morgana’s face; he’d always been able to read her when they were younger. Not so much as they’d got older, but he thought he sensed that she was interested in what he’d said. “I don’t expect things between us to go back to how they were before; too much has happened for that, Morgana, but I’m willing to call a truce. All you have to do is talk to Merlin. He is moping around and acting like a child. I know he’ll listen to you.”

Morgana rolled her eyes and let out a wicked laugh. “Oh, Arthur. What a fool you are. You still want to believe that I am that dear, sweet girl who you thought was your father’s ward. What exactly do you think I would say to Merlin? Tell him to embrace the fact that he might never get his magic back and that you want to be his _dogsbody_? Sorry, little brother, but I don’t think that would go over well.”

Arthur nearly turned around and fled, but he wouldn’t. He had come to seek help from Morgana and he wasn’t leaving until he got it. “Morgana, you said something to Merlin when he was a baby, and within two dawns he was an adult again. I want you to help him get his sight back. You can give him some of your magic,” Arthur added, as if that were obvious, but the look Morgana gave him said it was anything but.

She laughed maniacally and rolled her eyes as she looked around her, surveying her gaggle of minions who were poised to commence battle on command. “It doesn’t work that way, Arthur,” she said as she returned her attention to him. “Merlin’s magic is there. All of it. All he need do is to realise that and find it within himself. Only he can get it back,” she finished, her voice soft as honey, but her eyes hard as stone.

“But you said somethi—” Arthur started.

“I told him that if he were truly the strongest sorcerer to have ever lived like the Druids tell me, he had it within him to reclaim his former life. All of it. That’s what I whispered to him, Arthur. I didn’t curse him. I didn’t cure him. I told him what he needed to know.”

“Merlin?” called out Gwen as she knocked on his door. “Gaius said you wanted to see me?”

“Come in,” Merlin said, wishing now that he hadn’t asked Gaius to send for her, but he had and he wouldn’t send her away; Gwen was one of the few people he didn’t wish to alienate, and he had important information to share with her. “Thank you for coming.” Merlin forced himself to turn towards her.

He loathed the act of facing people when he couldn’t see them properly, knowing his eyes would betray his attempts, but he respected Gwen too much to make her talk to his back.

He didn’t attempt to look at her, though—he looked at his bed covers and picked at them. “I need to tell you something important,” Merlin said, glancing over to his bedside table where Gaius had set the bracelet.

Merlin took a deep breath. Was he doing the right thing? Gaius certainly didn’t think so, but Merlin didn’t think he had a choice.

Arthur had said something about going after Morgana. Was he mental? Merlin couldn’t allow Arthur to do that. Perhaps if he shared with Gwen and Arthur what Gaius had told him about Morgana’s probable involvement with what happened between Gwen and Lancelot, Arthur would understand just how evil she was. Or maybe not, but Merlin had to try.

“Where did you get that?” Gwen asked as she made her way over to the table and retrieved the bracelet. “Lancelot gave it to me.”

“But it wasn’t really him, Gwen,” and Merlin proceeded to tell Gwen everything: about Lancelot being a shade, about them doing the test on him, about Gaius finding the bracelet and testing it for dark magic, and all the other details that they had figured out.

He still wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, but the whole sordid episode had caused far too much hurt and Merlin wanted to alleviate what he could.

Once Merlin finished, he waited for Gwen to say something. He wished he could see her. It was so infuriating not being able to. He felt as if he were only half a person.

“Thank you for telling me, Merlin,” Gwen said as she approached the bed and knelt close enough so Merlin could see her face almost clearly.

Merlin took Gwen’s hands in his. “I’m sorry that Morgana ruined things between you and Arthur, Gwen. Gaius didn’t wish for me to tell you because he thought it would be too upsetting. Was I right to tell you?” he asked, hoping he had done the ccorrect thing. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already had been.

Gwen squeezed Merlin’s hands softly. “Yes, you were right to tell me,” she said, her voice making it quite evident that she was probably about to cry. “To know that I didn’t betray Arthur of my own free will is a gift that I can never repay. That has been the most difficult part of everything—not understanding how I could have betrayed Arthur; it just didn’t make sense. Now it does.”

Merlin nodded. “And Lancelot didn’t betray Arthur, either,” and saying those words were important to Merlin for far too many reasons. He took a deep breath. “He would have never done that to Arthur. I can tell you that from experience,” and Merlin really wished he could see Gwen’s expression more clearly.

Most people probably wouldn’t understand what he’d said, but Merlin knew Gwen would; she had also been on the receiving end of Lancelot’s selfless chivalry when it came to Arthur Pendragon.

Her response was a small laugh before she leant down and pressed a kiss to Merlin’s forehead. “You are a treasure, Merlin, and you deserve to have the love Arthur can give you. Don’t ever forget that. He loves you. Don’t let him get away.”

Gwen had no sooner left Merlin’s chambers when Gwaine opened the door and asked where the party was.

Merlin scrubbed his face with his hands and hoped he didn’t look as distraught as he felt. “Not here,” he deadpanned as he turned over so he was facing away from Gwaine.

“Merls, you’ve got to snap out of this melancholia you’ve slipped into. Arthur’s about to go mental on us all; he was relentless in training earlier today. I thought he was going to maim Elyan. Leon finally had to take the lance from him and tell him to take a break,” Gwaine said as he sat on the bed.

“Yeah, my mum said Arthur hasn’t been sleeping, but what am I supposed to do, Gwaine? Everyone seems so sure my magic will come back, but I have no idea how. I have begged the gods. Got down on my knees and prayed to whomever would listen, but thus far it seems no one has,” Merlin said as he yawned.

“I wish I knew what to tell you, Merlin, but in the meantime, how about you stop being such a prat. We all just want to help. We know you don’t want it, but in some things, you have to accept it. That’s life. Just think about that, yeah?” Gwaine said as he stood up. “Get some rest. You’re getting out of here tomorrow morning if I have to drag you myself.”

Merlin frowned as he watched Gwaine leave. He knew everyone only wanted to help, and perhaps he was ready to accept it. What he wasn’t ready to accept, however, was that his magic was gone for good. But how was he to get it back?

As Arthur stood in the stable brushing Merlin’s horse’s mane, he closed his eyes as the beautiful creature whinnied. Merlin loved her so.

From the very first day Merlin had been given the horse, Arthur had been envious of the docile and obedient animal that was the complete opposite of his own horse, who had a will of his own and would take off whenever the fancy hit him.

“Arthur, what are you doing in here?” Gwaine asked, interrupting Arthur’s musings.

Arthur turned around and couldn’t speak. Merlin was standing beside Gwaine. He didn’t look at all happy and his head was bowed, but he was outside and not in his bed. Arthur allowed the smallest of grins.

He could kiss Gwaine.

Best to never let on about that.

“Cat got your tongue?” Gwaine asked, leading Merlin over to Arthur. “Merls and I were going for a ride, but as you are tending his horse, I think it only right that you be the one to take him out.”

“Since when is he _Merls_ , Gwaine?” Arthur asked, not expecting an answer as he carefully took Merlin’s hand in his and shook his head at Gwaine. Arthur leant in and whispered into Merlin’s ear. “Do you want to go riding?” he asked, knowing full well that he wasn’t about to take Merlin out against his will.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Merlin replied softly, his head continuing to look towards the ground.

With Gwaine’s help, they got Merlin seated on his horse before Arthur climbed on behind him, not quite believing Gwaine had actually got Merlin out of bed and to the stables.

Arthur owed Gwaine.

Maybe he’d go find him a girl.

“We’re going to go slow,” Arthur said in Merlin’s ear as he wrapped his left arm around Merlin and guided the horse with his right. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah,” was Merlin’s only response, his voice flat as they rode outside and began the trek towards the woods.

Arthur sighed. “Gaius came to see me last night and told me about Morgana and what she did to Lancelot. He made it clear he didn’t wish to be telling me, but that you had insisted on telling Guinevere. I’m glad to know that she didn’t betray me, but I have to admit I wish I didn’t know any of it because now I truly know how evil my sister is. I mean, I understood that she was bad, but I had hoped one day she’d see how wrong she’d been.”

“There’s so much you don’t know, Arthur. So many things that Morgana has done. If you kne—”

“Not now, Merlin,” Arthur said hastily, not wanting to talk any more about his sister. “I think I know more than you realise, and I’m not ready to face that. Not yet,” Arthur said. “Not yet,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I know she’s your sister. You don’t have to tell me about disappointment where she is concerned. I felt so close to her, especially when I found out she had magic. I had so hoped we could help each other, but instead I just led her down the wrong path. I will never forgive myself for that.”

“It’s not your fault, Merlin,” Arthur said, and to emphasize that he took Merlin’s hand in his and squeezed.

For a long while Arthur said nothing further as he and Merlin sat in silence while the horse led them alongside the tree-line; his thoughts were meandering too wildly to put voice to any of it. He wanted to tell Merlin about what Morgana had said regarding his magic, but something was stopping him. He couldn’t explain it, but he had the feeling that Merlin needed to discover that he still had his magic himself.

“Stop,” said Merlin sometime later. He took the reins from Arthur and the horse came to a halt. “I need to ask you a question, Arthur, but first I need you to help me down. I can see enough to get down, but I don’t know what I’d be stepping on. With my luck, it’ll be some animal’s refuse,” he said, a brief laugh following.

That sound coming from Merlin was music to Arthur’s ears. It had been far too long since he’d heard the adult Merlin laugh, and he realised how much he had missed it. He hoped to hear much more of it.

When Merlin was safely on the ground, he knelt and felt around him. He found something and stood again, a leaf in his hand. He placed it in Arthur’s palm. “I need for you to tell me what you see when you look at this leaf. Tell me everything you see: colours and all.”

Arthur frowned. He didn’t understand what this was about, but he did realise that Merlin was opening up to him. Arthur looked down at the small leaf and smiled. “I see a long stem. It’s light green at the tip, almost white, but not quite. It is rounded at the end, and if you look inside from the very bottom you can see dirt,” he said, looking up at Merlin and seeing that his eyes were scrunched closed, a tear hanging onto his eyelashes.

Arthur thought about wiping the tear away, but he decided against doing so. While Merlin was much more emotionally demonstrative than he was, Arthur knew that Merlin probably wouldn’t appreciate such sentiment in this situation.

Arthur cleared his throat. “The stem is hollow so you can see into the plant, and the stem becomes flatter as it gets nearer the green leaf. There are small lines running the length of the stem and leaf. They are tiny, but they cover the leaf. The leaf is folded in upon itself, but it is open in the center so you can see inside. There are tiny brown spots. Not many, but a few. As you look to the top of the leaf it closes in again and there is a tiny bit of yellowing at the tip. I guess the leaf part reminds me of a small boat—the ends closed and the middle open. It looks like you could put something inside and it would be protected from the elements,” Arthur finished, wondering if he’d satisfied Merlin’s curiosity.

Merlin took the leaf from Arthur. He cleared his throat then moved so he was standing in front of Arthur, close enough that Arthur knew Merlin could feel his breaths on his neck.

“Close your eyes so you can see it through my eyes and I will tell you what _I_ see,” said Merlin.

Arthur did as asked.

“When I look at the leaf I see what I think is a darkish green, but I can’t be sure. It is all one shade to me. No definition. No dirt. No brown spots. No lines. I can see the general shape, but I can’t see a boat.” Merlin sighed.

When Merlin said nothing more for several seconds, Arthur took the small leaf in his hand. He studied it for several seconds more and then placed it back in Merlin’s hand. “Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking Merlin for, but it had seemed the right thing to say.

Merlin tossed and turned for quite a while before he fell into a restless sleep, where he dreamed that his father came to see him. It was so good to see him again.

 

_“Merlin, you are more than a son of your father. You are son of the earth, the sea, the sky. Magic is the fabric of this world, and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself. You cannot lose what you are,” Balinor told him._

_“But how do I find myself again?” Merlin asked. He had tried, with no success._

_“Believe, Merlin. Believe what your heart knows to be true, that you have always been and always will be.”*_

 

When Merlin awoke, he could hear the birds outside his window and he could tell that it was no longer completely dark, so he guessed it was time to get up and begin his day.

Not that he had anything in particular to do—going to Arthur’s chambers to serve him would be laughable in his current condition—but Merlin thought he should go and see if Gaius needed any help before the village awoke and Gaius’s services were needed elsewhere. And hadn’t Gwen said she wanted to see him?

It was time for Merlin to start living again.

He needed to accept that he mightn’t ever get his magic back. He still might, but if not, then perhaps there were worse things than relying on others for help.

There were definitely worse things in life than relying on Arthur for help.

Merlin slowly sat up and opened his eyes.

And he could _see_.

Arthur stood on the balcony and looked out over Camelot, thinking about the last time he’d been up there—it seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality it was less than seven weeks.

He looked to his left and watched as Gwaine and Percival made their way to the edge of the woods, leaving for morning patrol, and out of his peripheral vision he watched as Tyr talked to one of the newer knights who was departing the stables, headed out with Elyan to meet the others.

Arthur grinned at the way the young knight smiled at Tyr and talked to him. It reminded Arthur of Merlin and how he always had a kind word for Tyr, even after a long day of riding.

“Hey, Arthur,” said a whispered voice, but the voice was unmistakable.

Arthur tensed. “Merlin,” he said, no inflection in his voice, but to be sure he was brimming with happiness on the inside. He wanted so very badly to turn around and embrace Merlin, but he wouldn’t—he would let Merlin take the lead. Thus, he continued to look out over his kingdom, but every thought he had was about Merlin.

“Thank you, Arthur, for everything,” Merlin said, his voice now sotto and trembling ever so slightly as his lips tickled Arthur’s ear.

Arthur nodded. “You don't need to thank me, Merlin,” he said as he swallowed and felt a huge lump in his throat. He continued to watch the early morning activity within the citadel, remembering when he and Morgana had been young children and how Morgana had done her best to evade him and Leon when they were playing soldiers. Leon had forever been trying to take her prisoner because she had stolen gold from their vaults. On the rare occasion that Leon had captured Morgana he had taken her to the old well, which had been their pretend prison.

Such a simple time that had been. Now things were anything but. 

Arthur was about to ask Merlin to continue when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His breathing sped up.

“When I woke up, Arthur, I was ready to accept your help. I know that I’ve been a right prat. I’m not proud of that, but I was so frightened. That’s one of the reasons I had you describe that leaf to me yesterday.”

“Ah, I was wondering what that was all about,” Arthur said, curious to know more.

“I needed you to understand how differently I see things from you, Arthur. What I realised as you were describing everything you saw was that, even with my magic, I am never going to have the sight you do. I’ve never seen those lines in the lily plant leaf that you described to me, and that plant is my favourite. It was a rather shocking revelation and I didn’t much like it, but it made me accept that if I wasn’t seeing as you were when I had my magic, I was really struggling without it and I did need help. So yes, I was ready to give in to my pride and allow all of you into my life again.”

“You were?” If Arthur was curious before, he was more so now. What was Merlin going on about?

“Yeah, I was, Arthur, but then I opened my eyes and I could see again.”

“You can?” Arthur asked, relief flooding him. He wanted to jump up and down, pick Merlin up, and twirl him around. He was so happy. However, this was probably not the moment for that. Thus, he waited several seconds, sure that Merlin would continue. When he said nothing more, Arthur slowly turned around, perplexed as to why Merlin would be silent after such a wonderful revelation.

Merlin was kneeling, bent over, his head in his hands. He was shaking. Arthur was momentarily frozen. He didn’t do comforting well, but perhaps it was time he learned.

He knelt down and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s shoulders. It was awkward, but he knew Merlin needed to be held. And to be sure, Arthur needed to hold Merlin.

Sometime later, Arthur stood and stepped back as he cleared his throat, but then he had no clue what to do, so he was thankful when Merlin stood and grinned. He let out a laugh that lasted several seconds; it was music to Arthur's ears.

“You hugged me,” Merlin said, wonderment in his voice. “I can’t believe you actually hugged me.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur retorted, but it was halfhearted at best.

“Well, you did," Merlin said with that familiar cheeky grin that Arthur had missed so very much. Merlin looked as if he wanted to run and tell everyone. Arthur didn't much care. In fact, if he weren't King of Camelot he might be tempted to shout across the courtyard and tell everyone that he loved Merlin.

“So now you know why I am so clumsy,” Merlin said, looking uneasy, but then he shrugged his shoulders and gave Arthur one of his familiar boyish grins. “I never wanted you to find out about my eyes, just as I never intended for you to know I had magic, but I guess fate had a different plan. I still can’t believe my toy dragon saved your life.”

“Nor can I,” Arthur said, still amazed at that fortuitous turn of events that had allowed him to live. “You are always where I need you, when I need you. You always have been.”

Merlin nodded. “Years ago I was told a prophecy that foretold of a destiny, and not too long after that it was made clear to me that this prophecy would most likely require me to save you from Mordred, Arthur, but I have to say that never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d save you by being reverted to an infant.” 

“Yes, well, you did,” Arthur said, a bit distracted. Merlin had said his destiny was to save him from Mordred. Who had told him that? Had it been the dragon beneath the castle? Had he told Merlin something similar to what he had told him? Arthur wanted to ask, but the time for that wasn’t at hand. There would be plenty of time for questions later.

“And I am thankful for it,” Arthur said, a huge grin on his face. “It was all quite surreal, Merlin, with you being a baby. I didn’t know what to do with you, but I found out after a while that I quite enjoyed that time. I don’t know that I can explain it, but it made me think and remember what life is really about. I know that sounds daft, but it did—it made me want to one day have a child and to be able to raise him or her and to give them what I never had. Does that make sense?” Arthur asked, looking unsure.

“’Course it does, Arthur,” Merlin said as he looked up towards the sky and frowned when he saw a flash of lightning and heard the rumble of thunder. “It’s about to rain. We should probably go inside,” he said, but then raised an eyebrow when Arthur shook his head. “Or... we could stay out here,” he amended cheekily. “And get rained on. Why not? I love getting rained on. I live for it.”

If Arthur needed any proof that his Merlin was back, he’d just received it. Merlin really didn’t know when to shut up, did he? Arthur nearly said as much, but he wisely chose not to—there would be time for that later, of that Arthur had no doubt. In fact, he had every confidence that within the day Merlin would be back to his overly cheerful and chatty self. The mere thought sent a warmth throughout Arthur's body and he fervently hoped he wasn't being overly optimistic.

“I need to apologize to you,” Arthur said after a brief lull. “I think I have called you an idiot at least once for each day you have served me. I now know that that was wrong of me. Your mother set me straight and she was right to do so.” Arthur saw that Merlin wanted to speak, but he cut him off. “No, let me finish; it’s hard enough as it is. I’m not the best at apologies or admitting when I was wrong, so let me try.”

Merlin nodded and closed his mouth, looking at Arthur with those beautiful blue eyes. Arthur found himself getting lost in them.

“I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, Merlin. Not ever. I hope you believe me,” he said nervously.

Arthur had more to say but he could see the expressions that were flitting across Merlin’s face and knew that the other was itching to talk. Some things never changed, a fact Arthur couldn’t be happier about. “Go on,” Arthur said, sighing as he always did when Merlin didn’t listen.

“Yes, Arthur, I believe you and I thank you for saying that, but I hope this doesn’t mean you're going to turn into Sir Leon and be all prim and proper all the time when you're around me. As much as I admire how dedicated he is, I find that I quite like the prattish you,” Merlin added, laughter in his voice, but then he cleared his throat and became serious. “I trust you with my life. I have done for six years, and I have every intention of doing so for as long as I live.”

Arthur had grinned at Merlin’s cheeky remark, thankful that the Merlin he’d fallen for years earlier was truly back, but at Merlin’s declaration of trust, Arthur cleared his throat, remembering that Hunith had said something similar. It warmed his heart and made him want to take Merlin in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be fine.

He wouldn’t do that—the future was unpredictable—but he thought about responding with something _prattish_ for Merlin, to make the conversation less intense. Regrettably, Arthur wasn’t quite finished with the serious part of their talk and he wasn’t going to leave anything unsaid or unasked. He steeled himself and pushed ahead.

“I need to ask you a serious question and I need you to be honest with me, Merlin. Please,” Arthur added, taking a deep breath.

“The truth,” Merlin said, and he nodded before he took his own deep breath.

“Were you so disenchanted with life as it was that you didn’t wish to be here in Camelot? Is that why you reverted yourself into a baby?” Arthur saw the hurt on Merlin’s face, but he had to ask. He needed to know.

It took Merlin a while to answer as he went through so many different emotions, each of them clear for all to see on his face. That was one of the many things Arthur loved about Merlin.

“The truth is that I don’t know, Arthur. I was upset and I just wanted it to go away. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to go back to Ealdor, where life was simple for me.”

Merlin cringed after saying that, and Arthur wondered why.

“When you asked me to send Lancelot off, Arthur, I was happy to do it. Although he’s not someone I’ll ever feel comfortable talking to you about, I need you to know that he was, erm, well, he was special to me. So sending him away hurt. I don’t mean a hurt like a scraped knee or a bruised arm. I mean like a deep pain that pierces your heart and soul. A hurt that you think will never go away.”

Arthur opened his mouth, but closed it when Merlin shook his head and glared.

“You asked a question, Arthur. Allow me to finish, yeah?”

”Sorry,” Arthur said, sullenly. “Go on.” 

“Thank you,” Merlin said as he shook his head exasperatedly, much like the Merlin of old had done when Arthur frustrated him. “As I was about to say, I remember thinking that the only consolation I had after sending Lancelot off was that when I returned to Camelot you would be there to welcome me, but when I got back I was told you didn’t want to see me. I knew you were going through your own pains, and I understood, but that made me feel like you were pushing me away.” Merlin looked up towards the sky where the sun, surrounded by thick clouds, was slowly becoming brighter.

Arthur wanted so very badly to assure Merlin that pushing him away hadn’t been his intention and that he had very much wanted to see him, but that he had been near exhaustion and had thought getting rest would help him be able to face Merlin with a clearer head. But none of that mattered. None of it. Arthur saying such would accomplish nothing.

“I don’t know, Arthur, but I think I just wanted it all to disappear. But the thing is, I never thought anything would come of my simply thinking I wanted it all to go away. I don’t claim to be the most sane person, but I quite like my life, as droll as it may be, and I would never want to do anything to change it. I hope you believe that. Please, tell me you believe that, Arthur,” Merlin said, his breathing fast, his eyes pleading, darting back and forth between Arthur’s eyes and his lips.

“Yes, I do believe that, Merlin, so I’ll expect you to never do anything stupid like that ever again. As cute and adorable as you were when you were a baby, I much prefer you as you are now.”

His admonition finished, Arthur reached out and took Merlin’s shaking hands in his. “I don’t know what the future holds for me, for us, for Camelot, Merlin, but I do know that I no longer want to face that future without you knowing how much you mean to me. I’m tired of not being honest with myself, with you, and with everyone else.”

“No more lies,” Merlin whispered as he brought one of Arthur’s hands up to his lips and kissed each finger, his gaze never leaving Arthur’s. He let out a laugh and looked up towards the sky as the rain began to fall and run down his face.

Arthur thought Merlin was perfect as the rain continued to fall on them and as Merlin ran his hands over his face and let out a happy sigh.

Merlin was so many things wrapped into one, but most importantly to Arthur, Merlin was the man he loved.

Arthur opened his mouth to say more, but there wasn't anything left to say, not really. Later? Yes. Now? No. There was only one thought running through Arthur's mind and he would be damned if he denied himself any longer. He took Merlin's face in his hands, leant in, and kissed him.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7768750?view_full_work=true)

When Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur and deepened the kiss, the king of Camelot thought he could get through anything the kingdom handed him as long as Merlin was by his side, and when he was given the honour of divesting Merlin of every piece of clothing he had on, Arthur knew what a gift he had been given.

And as Merlin returned the favour, peppering Arthur’s chest with kisses as those lovely long fingers removed his clothing, Arthur made a vow to thank Merlin every day for what he had given him.

As Merlin crawled down Arthur’s body and wrapped his mouth around Arthur’s cock and began sucking, Arthur wondered what he had done to deserve Merlin.

Some minutes later Arthur pulled Merlin off him and gently laid him out on the ground that was covered with his cape, but before he climbed atop him, he stopped and memorized the moment—the way the sky looked, the smells, the way Merlin looked, the way Arthur himself felt.

Arthur didn’t want to ever forget anything about this moment, because there would only ever be one first time for them.

“I love you,” Arthur said as he sank into Merlin. It felt so good and so right, as if they belonged together.

“I love you, too, Arthur,” Merlin replied as he lifted his legs and wrapped them around Arthur’s back, pulling him closer.

When Arthur pulled out and slammed back in he covered Merlin’s mouth with his and didn’t pull away until Merlin pushed at him softly, saying he needed to breathe.

As he was about to come, Arthur made sure he wasn’t alone, and he felt a tear fall when Merlin fell over that edge, pulling Arthur over with him.

Arthur knew he’d go anywhere Merlin wanted him to go, and he also knew that what the great dragon had told him all those many years ago had come to pass:

 

_”Young prince, you are overly indulged and have little understanding of the trials and tribulations your subjects face each day, but fortunately for everyone, you will have many years to learn. Heed my warnings and learn humility._

_“One day you shall rule Camelot, and within the walls of this great kingdom you will learn just how difficult life can be for others. You will learn this humbling lesson from your most trusted friend when his life is altered, possibly forever._

_“It is only through your helping him believe in himself, which in turn will help you believe more in yourself, that your friend will come out the other end._

_“Without you, your friend will never succeed._

_“If you fail to heed my warnings and do nothing, your life will forever be an unhappy one, but if you learn to listen, and learn to be compassionate, the future you desire will one day be yours._ ”

 

Arthur silently thanked the dragon and hoped that it was happy wherever it was.

The future Arthur had desired was indeed his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * From episode 5X12: The Diamond of the Day Part 1


End file.
